HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT 
STORIES 


FRANK  B.  LINDERMAN 

lUastratedby  CARLE  MICHEL  BOOG 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


BETTY  HOAG  MCULYNN 
COLLECTION 


BY  FRANK  B.  LINDERMAN 

HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

INDIAN  OLD-MAN  STORIES 

More  Sparks  from  War  Eagle's  Lodge-Fire 

INDIAN  WHY  STORIES 

Sparks  from  War  Eagle's  Lodge-Fire 


BUNCH-GRASS  AND  BLUE-JOINT 

ON  A  PASSING  FRONTIER 
Sketches  from  the  Northwest 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


HOW  IT   CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 


"Well,  they  don't  bother  me  very  much,"  laughed  the  Weasel 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT 
STORIES 

Sv 
FRANK  B.  LINDERMAN 

[CO -SKEE- SEE-CO- COT] 


Illustrated  by 
CARLE    MICHEL    BOOG 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1921 


COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


September,  1921 


THE  SCRIBNER   PRESS 


I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK  TO  MY  DAUGHTERS 
WILDA,  VERNE,  AND   NORMA 

WHO  HAVE  LEARNED  TO  LISTEN  IN  THE  STILL  PLACES 

AND   WHO  HAVE   ENJOYED  THESE  PAGES 

IN  THEIR  MAKING 

FRANZ  B.  LINDERMAN 


From  the  land  where  yet  the  tepee 

Mingles  smoke  with  evening's  haze, 

And  the  antlered  elk  is  monarch 

Of  the  silent  forest  ways; 

Where  the  trail  in  seeming  fondness, 

To  the  river  ever  clings, 

And  Nature  whispers  "silence" 

When  the  water-ouzel  sings. 


FOREWORD 

THESE  stories  should  not  be  confounded  with 
Indian  Why  Stories  nor  with  Indian  Old-man 
Stories,  as  they  are  altogether  imaginary,  and 
are  told  in  the  hope  of  entertaining  young 
Americans  and  interesting  them  in  the  strange 
habits  of  our  wild  animals  and  birds. 

I  have  assumed  that  the  animals,  speaking  at 
the  Council-fire,  accept  Old-man  as  their  Crea- 
tor, as  does  the  Redman  of  the  forest  and 
plains,  and  have  used  him  accordingly. 

I  believe  in  the  cultivation  of  appreciation 
for  the  work  and  beauties  of  nature  as  a  firm 
foundation  for  better  citizenship.  Such  appre- 
ciation is  a  special  grace  —  a  favor  that  is  the 
real  parent  of  every  noble  impulse.  It  may  be 
cultivated,  and  when  once  attained  is  never 
lost.  Its  rewards  are  immediate  and  far-reach- 

vii 


viii  FOREWORD 

ing.    It  is  the  only  real  paymaster  —  the  just 
judge  of  compensation. 

It  lends  a  sweeter  softness  to  the  ouzel's  morning 

song; 

It  emphasizes  virtue  and  it  magnifies  a  wrong; 
It  makes  your  fellows  love  you;  it  makes  you  want 

to  live  — 
This  grace,  if  nature  gives  it,  is  thejbest  she  has  to 

give. 


CONTENTS 
BOOK  I 

PAGE 

AT  THE  BIG  LAKE  WHEN  THE  MOON  is  FULL        i 

BOOK  II 

NEAR  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN  WHEN 

THE  MOON  is  DARK 117 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Well,  they  don't  bother  me  very  much,"  laughed  the 

Weasel Frontispiece 


FACING  PAGE 


The  Council 42 

"Wait!    Wait!  "begged  the  Bear 114 

And  the  Weasel  saw  the  Lynx  go  by 162 

The  Spider  said:  "The  Weasel  has  said  that  the  Bob-cat 

is  not  the  only  thief  in  the  world " 182 

Then,  with  an  angry  snarl,  he  aimed  a  blow  at  the  fire 

itself  .                                          218 


BOOK  I 

AT  THE  BIG  LAKE  WHEN  THE  MOON 
IS  FULL 


CHAPTER  I 

,  ever  so  long  ago,  this  world  was 
new.  That  is,  it  was  lots  newer  than  it 
is  to-day,  and  the  animals  and  birds  that  lived 
in  the  forests  and  upon  the  plains  used  to  meet 
and  talk  about  their  habits  and  peculiarities. 
They  never  told  how  they  came  by  them,  how- 
ever, and  always  excused  themselves  from  an- 
swering direct  questions  concerning  them.  This 
secrecy  made  their  neighbors  and  friends  won- 
der the  more.  The  Wolf,  meeting  the  Bear, 
would  ask  him  what  had  become  of  his  tail,  and 
the  Blue-grouse,  coming  down  to  the  lowlands 
to  build  her  nest  in  the  springtime,  wondered 
why  her  cousin,  the  Sage-hen,  had  no  gizzard 
as  did  other  birds  of  their  kind.  And  so  it 
went  on  until  one  day  the  Bear  met  the  Weasel 
in  a  cedar  swamp  in  the  springtime. 
"Say,  my  little  brother/'  said  the  Bear, 

3 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"that  old  white  robe  of  yours  looks  rather  rag- 
ged —  almost  as  ragged  as  my  own/' 

"Yes,  it  does,"  admitted  the  Weasel.  "I  'm 
turning  brown  now.  It  will  soon  be  summer, 
and  if  I  were  to  wear  my  winter  robe  of  white, 
anybody  could  see  me  in  the  woods.  I  'm 
afraid  of  Owls,  anyhow.  I  '11  be  glad  when 
I  'm  brown  again." 

"You  are  hard  to  see  in  the  winter-time," 
said  the  Bear. 

"Yes,  and  that's  because  I'm  white,  you 
see.  I  'm  just  as  hard  to  see  in  summer  when 
I  have  changed  my  coat  to  brown,"  laughed 
the  Weasel. 

"I  wonder  why  we  have  so  much  winter, 
anyhow,"  mused  the  Bear,  as  he  scratched  his 
ear  with  his  hind  paw. 

"Well,  I  have  heard  that  the  Muskrat  knew, 
but  he  has  never  told  me,"  replied  the  Weasel. 
"I  don't  mind  the  winter,  and  you  ought  not  to 
dislike  it.  You  sleep  all  the  time,  while  I  have 
to  make  my  living  in  the  snow,  small  as  I  am." 

4 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"It  doesn't  take  much  to  make  you  fat," 
returned  the  Bear.  "One  mouthful  for  me 
would  make  a  feast  for  you  for  a  month.  Think 
of  that !  It  takes  a  lot  of  food  to  make  me  fat. 
It  is  well  for  me  that  I  can  sleep  in  the  winter, 
for  my  legs  are  too  short  for  the  deep  snows. 
Besides,  I  am  so  heavy  that  I  'd  sink  out  of 
sight  in  the  snow-drifts.  You  can  skip  along 
over  them  like  a  light  breeze,  and  a  mouthful 
of  food  is  a  big  feast  for  you.  I  think  you  are 
favored,  myself/' 

"Humph!"  sniffed  the  Weasel.  "I  wish  / 
could  curl  up  where  it 's  warm  and  do  nothing 
but  sleep  through  the  cold  weather.  But  if  I 
tried  it,  I  'd  starve  to  death,  that 's  all.  I  have 
to  work,  work,  work  all  the  time  to  keep  alive 
while  you  sleep,  sleep,  sleep." 

"Heigh-ho!"  sighed  the  Bear.  "OW-man 
made  us  all.  I  wonder  why  he  did  such  queer 
things  for  us.  Here  you  are  so  tiny  and  I  am 
so  large  and  strong.  Then  there  's  the  Beaver. 
He  can  stay  under  water  quite  a  while,  and  yet 

5 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

he  is  no  relation  to  the  Fish-people  that  live  in 
the  water.  I  can't  stay  under  water  at  all.  I 
can  swim,  of  course;  but  a  Fish  cannot  walk  on 
the  land  as  I  do.  He  dies  in  the  air.  I  wonder 
why,  don't  you?  The  Duck-people  can  swim 
in  the  water,  fly  in  the  air,  walk  on  the  land, 
and  stay  under  water  a  long  time.  Some  peo- 
ple had  a  great  many  favors  given  them,  I 
think." 

"You  know  why  you  are  made  to  sleep  in 
the  winter-time,  and  I  know  why  I  change  my 
coat  with  the  seasons.  I  suppose  the  rest  of 
our  kind  know  why  OW-man  made  them  as  he 
did,  so  that  is  all  that  is  necessary,  I  should 
think,"  said  the  Weasel. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  agreed  the  Bear.  "But 
I,  for  one,  would  like  to  hear  them  tell  their 
stories.  Let  us  call  a  Council  of  all  the  animals 
and  birds.  Let  it  be  held  at  the  Big  Lake  where 
the  forest  reaches  to  the  waters,  so  that  those 
who  live  in  the  streams  can  be  there  with  us." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  declared  the  Weasel. 

6 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"A  mighty  good  idea.    It  would  help  to  pass 
the  summer,  too." 

"We  will  do  it,"  decided  the  Bear.  "You 
tell  everybody  you  see,  and  I  will  do  the  same 
thing.  Let  us  set  the  day  now.  When  the 
moon  is  full  next  time  would  be  fine,  I  think. 
Tell  everybody  that  there  will  be  no  quarrel- 
ling, and  that  the  Council  will  last  for  four  days 
and  four  nights.  That  will  give  every  one  a 
chance  to  tell  about  himself." 

"All  right,"  agreed  the  Weasel.  "I  see  lots 
of  people.  I  '11  have  work  telling  the  Mouse- 
people  and  the  Rabbits,  I  suppose,  for  they  are 
afraid  of  me." 

"I  don't  blame  them,"  laughed  the  Bear. 
"But  tell  all  you  see,  and  begin  now.  I  have 
to  be  going.  It 's  getting  late.  I  '11  tell  the 
Wolf  to-night.  We  are  not  very  good  friends, 
but  I  can  manage  it,  I  guess."  Then  he  went 
on  digging  roots  and  looking  for  forest-people 
that  he  might  tell  them  of  the  coming  Coun- 
cil by  the  Big  Lake. 

7 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

The  Weasel  watched  him  from  a  fallen  tree. 
"You  clumsy,  bob-tailed,  big-footed  lout,"  he 
whispered.  "  I  'd  hate  to  have  to  carry  so  much 
of  a  body  about.  It  must  keep  you  busy  to 
put  any  fat  on  your  ribs."  Then  he  began  to 
hunt  for  a  bird's  nest  that  he  might  suck  the 
eggs. 

"If  I  were  as  small  as  that  Weasel-person, 
I  'd  be  afraid  some  one  would  step  on  me," 
mused  the  Bear,  as  he  dug  and  ate  the  root  of 
camas  that  grew  in  a  meadow-place.  "His  head 
is  larger  around  than  his  body,  and  his  tail  — 
well,  it 's  nearly  as  long  as  himself.  .  .  .  There 
goes  the  Wolf  now !  Hey,  Brother  Wolf,  wait 
a  minute!" 

The  Wolf  stopped.  "I  suppose  you  want 
something,"  he  snarled  as  the  Bear  came  through 
some  bushes,  cracking  the  dead  branches  under 
foot  with  his  great  weight. 

"I  do  and  I  don't,"  said  the  Bear. 

"You  do  and  you  don't,  hey?"  said  the  Wolf 
as  he  put  his  front  feet  upon  a  log.  "Well,  I 

8 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

don't  understand  that  at  all.  You  don't  look 
as  mean  as  you  are.  I  guess  it's  your  stub  tail 
that  makes  you  look  so  funny.  How  does  it 
happen  that  a  big  person  like  you  wears  so 
short  a  tail?" 

"Now,  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you 
about,"  said  the  Bear.  "You  see,  I  have  won- 
dered why  it  is  that  you  can  see  so  well.  I 
don't  see  half  as  much  as  you  do.  My  nose  is 
fine,  though.  Nobody  can  smell  any  better 
than  I,  but  I  don't  see  so  very  well,  even  in  the 
daytime.  Now,  all  the  animal  people  have 
peculiarities  that  are  strange  to  those  who  do 
not  possess  them,  so  I  -  -  that  is,  the  Weasel 
and  I  —  have  decided  to  call  a  Council  at  the 
Big  Lake  when  the  moon  is  full  next  time. 
There  will  be  no  quarrelling,  and  each  animal 
there  will  be  expected  to  tell  how  and  why  he 
came  by  the  peculiarities  he  possesses  —  see  ? 
It  will  be  great  sport,  and  we  shall  hear  many 
stories  that  we  can  tell  to  our  grandchildren 
when  we  are  old.  Will  you  come?" 

9 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Yes,  of  course  I  '11  come/'  said  the  Wolf, 
"but  I  '11  have  to  bring  my  wife." 

"That 's  all  right.  I  'm  going  to  bring  my 
wife,  too,"  said  the  Bear.  "Besides  that,  I  '11 
have  to  bring  the  children." 

"You  have  only  two,  while  I  have  five  chil- 
dren," said  the  Wolf,  "but  I  can't  leave  them 
at  home  for  four  days  and  nights." 

"Of  course  you  can't.  Bring  them  along. 
And  tell  everybody  you  see,  will  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Wolf.  "I  '11  tell  everybody 
I  find.  Good-by."  And  he  trotted  away  with 
his  nose  to  the  breeze,  leaving  the  Bear  standing 
by  the  log. 

"That  Wolf-person  smells  something  to  eat, 
I  suppose,"  mused  the  Bear,  as  he  watched  the 
Wolf  trotting  away  in  a  straight  line  through 
the  forest.  "The  sun  is  getting  low.  I  sup- 
pose I  'd  better  be  moving  toward  the  hills." 

He  began  to  follow  a  deer  trail  toward  the 
foot-hills.  His  head  was  swinging  from  side  to 
side  as  he  lumbered  along  the  way,  when 

10 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Whew!  Whew!  Whew!"  a  white-tail  Deer 
whistled  in  the  bushes  ahead  of  him. 

"That 's  the  Deer,"  said  the  Bear.  "I  don't 
suppose  he  will  wait.  He  has  smelled  me  and 
will  run.  Oh,  Brother  Deer!"  he  called. 

"Oh,  I  see  you,"  said  the  Deer. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  you,"  said  the  Bear. 

"I  know  you  don't.  I  've  always  wondered 
why  your  eyes  are  not  better  and  - 

"That 's  just  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you 
about,"  said  the  Bear.  "I  have  wondered  why 
you  have  no  gall  sack  on  your  liver.  Your 
cousin,  the  Antelope,  has  a  gall  sack  but  no 
dew-claws.  You  have  dew-claws,  you  know. 
Old-man  made  us  all,  but  in  his  making  he  did 
many  strange  things,  so  I  —  that  is,  the  Weasel, 
the  Wolf,  and  I  —  have  decided  to  call  a  Coun- 
cil so  that  each  animal  may  tell  his  story.  It 's 
to  be  held  at  the  Big  Lake,  where  the  timber 
reaches  to  the  water,  so  the  Fish-people  can  be 
there  if  they  want  to." 

"When  is  that  to  be?"  asked  the  Deer. 

11 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"When  the  moon  is  full  next  time.  Will  you 
come?" 

"Yes,  but  don't  keep  edging  up  to  me  that 
way.  I  don't  trust  you  very  much/'  said  the 
Deer. 

"I  won't  harm  you,"  said  the  Bear.  "And 
there  is  to  be  no  quarrelling  at  the  Council. 
Will  you  tell  everybody  you  see?" 

"I  will.  Who  is  going  to  tell  the  Fish-peo- 
ple?" 

"Oh,  I  '11  get  the  Beaver  to  do  that.  He  sees 
a  good  many  Fish  every  day,"  said  the  Bear. 
"But  I  don't  expect  many  of  the  Fish-people. 
I  'm  glad  you  like  the  idea  of  the  Council,  and 
don't  forget  the  time." 

"I  won't.  But  say,  I  don't  want  to  be  in 
the  sun  too  much  from  now  until  August.  My 
horns  are  in  the  velvet  and  soft.  I  have  to 
stay  in  the  shade  so  they  will  grow  and  not 
harden." 

"Oh,  it  will  be  shady  at  the  lake,"  said  the 
Bear.  "Good-by.  And  tell  everybody." 

12 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"All  right.    It  looks  like  rain,  doesn't  it?" 

"Um-hu.  Hope  it  does  rain,"  said  the  Bear. 
"It  makes  digging  lots  easier." 

The  sun  was  nearly  down  now.  The  shad- 
ows were  long  across  the  deer  trail,  as  the  Bear 
pursued  his  way  toward  the  foot-hills.  "  I  won- 
der how  the  Weasel  is  getting  along,"  he  mused. 
"Everybody  I  have  asked  is  going  to  come.  I 
am  anxious  to  hear  what  they  have  to  say,  too. 
Hello !  there  's  the  Weasel  now.  Oh,  Weasel  - 
say !"  cried  the  Bear. 

"Good  land!"  said  the  Weasel.  "Do  you 
suppose  I  didn't  see  you  ?  I  've  been  listening 
to  your  footsteps  for  a  long  time,  and  I  Ve  been 
waiting  for  you.  I  Ve  seen  a  lot  of  people  about 
that  Council  and  they  are  all  coming  —  all  but 
the  Rabbit.  He  says  he  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  us.  He  says  he  has  more  enemies  than 
anybody  else,  and  that  it  keeps  him  busy  to 
stay  alive.  Why,  he  wouldn't  let  me  get  near 
enough  to  talk  to  him  without  yelling.  He  's 
an  awful  coward." 

13 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  know  he  is,"  said  the  Bear.  "But  you 
can't  blame  him.  Everybody  that  eats  meat  is 
after  him.  I  wouldn't  trust  you  myself  if  I 
were  the  Rabbit,  but  I  '11  get  the  Pine  Squirrel 
to  talk  to  him.  I  'd  like  to  get  the  Rabbit  to 
the  Council  because  of  his  tail.  I  'd  like  to 
know  how  he  came  by  it,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  would,  but,  good  land,  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  killing  him  when  I  was  asking  him 
to  a  party,"  said  the  Weasel. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,  but  you  're  pretty  cun- 
ning and  would  do  anything  to  get  hot  blood." 

"What 's  that !    Do  you  mean  to  say  - 

"Now,  now,  brother!  I  meant  no  harm.  I 
was  just  excusing  the  poor  Rabbit,  that 's  all. 
Forgive  me  if  my  words  angered  you." 

"Well,  they  did,"  said  the  Weasel. 

"Who  else  did  you  see  besides  the  Rabbit?" 
asked  the  Bear,  changing  the  subject. 

"Oh,  I  saw  the  Mice-people  and  the  Chip- 
munk and  the  Grouse  and  the  Magpie.  That 
Magpie-person  never  takes  anything  seriously. 

14 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

He  laughed  and  jabbered  and  made  fun  of  the 
Council  —  a  liars'  convention,  he  called  it. 
That  made  me  angry,  and  so  I  told  him  no 
gathering  of  liars  would  be  complete  without 
his  presence.  Instead  of  being  insulted,  he 
said  all  right,  he  'd  be  there,  and  that  talent 
was  at  a  premium  anywhere.  A  robin  was 
calling  him  everything  she  could  think  of  while 
we  were  talking.  He  had  sucked  every  egg  in 
her  nest.  My !  she  was  good  and  angry.  But, 
of  course,  the  Magpie  '11  be  on  hand.  You 
couldn't  keep  him  away  if  you  tried.  Who  did 
you  see?" 

"I  saw  the  Wolf  and  the  Deer,"  said  the 
Bear.  "They  will  come.  Both  will  tell  every- 
body they  see.  They  travel  a  great  deal  and 
so  see  many  people.  Our  Council  will  be  a 
great  success,  I  know." 

"I  think  so,  myself,"  said  the  Weasel.  "I 
am  glad  you  thought  of  it.  That  Chipmunk- 
person's  clothes  are  strange.  I  wonder  how  he 
came  by  them." 

15 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Bear  slowly. 
"Some  people  say  that  I  scratched  him,  and  so 
made  those  marks  on  his  back,  but  that 's  not 
true.  I  hope  he  comes  to  the  Council.  I  'd 
like  to  hear  him  tell  about  his  clothes." 

"Oh,  he'll  come,  all  right.  No  use  asking 
the  Flies  and  Mosquitoes,  is  there  ?  " 

"No,  goodness,  no!  Don't  say  a  word  to 
them  about  it.  We  should  have  thought  of  it 
before  this,  because  somebody  might  ask  them 
to  come.  There  isn't  a  single  thing  that  I  want 
to  know  about  those  people.  I  wish  OW-man 
had  not  made  them,"  said  the  Bear,  in  disgust. 

"Well,  they  don't  bother  me  very  much," 
laughed  the  Weasel. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,  and  they  don't  harm  me 
as  much  as  they  do  some  people.  The  Deer 
can't  stand  still  when  those  Fly-people  are 
around.  I  do  hope  they  don't  learn  of  the 
Council  until  it 's  too  late  for  them  to  get  there. 
Well,  I  must  be  going.  I  want  to  cross  the 
mountains  to-night.  Good-by." 

16 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"That 's  a  long  way  for  a  slow  traveller/' 
said  the  Weasel. 

"Yes,  but  I  can  make  it.  I  shall  pass  the 
place  where  the  Beaver-person  is  working,  to- 
night. He  is  messing  up  a  lot  of  country,  too. 
That  Beaver-person  would  make  a  lake  of  the 
whole  world  if  he  could,  I  guess/' 

"I  like  him/'  declared  the  Weasel. 

"Oh,  so  do  I  — so  do  I,"  the  Bear  hastened 
to  say.  "He's  a  person  that  minds  his  own 
business  and  harms  nobody.  If  it  weren't  for 
his  old  dams  and  ponds  and  mud-holes,  I  should 
find  no  fault  with  him.  But  he  likes  mud  and 
knows  how  to  make  it.  He  works  hard  all 
the  time  and  never  eats  meat.  I  don't  see 
how  he  can  do  it.  Well,  I  surely  must  be 
going.  Good-by." 

"Good-by  till  the  Full  of  the  Moon,"  called 
the  Weasel,  and  hopped  upon  a  log. 

The  Bear  turned  and  was  quite  a  way  along 
the  deer  trail  when  the  Weasel  cried,  "Say !  say ! 
shall  I  invite  the  Skunk-person  if  I  see  him?" 

17 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Why,  yes,  of  course.    Why  not?" 

"Oh,  nothing;  but  when  he  doesn't  behave  I 
don't  like  to  sit  near  him,  that 's  all." 

"He'll  behave,"  called  back  the  Bear. 
"He  '11  behave,  and  I  'd  give  anything  to  know 
how  he  came  by  that  awful  smell.  .  .  .  Well, 
my  goodness !  If  we  don't  stop  talking  I  '11 
never  get  where  I  'm  going.  Be  sure  and  tell 
everybody  there  is  to  be  no  quarrelling  at  the 
Council.  Tell  them  that  I'll  see  to  it  that 
there  will  be  order  there  for  four  days  and  four 
nights.  After  that  the  weak  ones  will  be  given 
from  sun-up  to  sun-down  in  which  to  hide. 
Then  everything  will  be  as  before,  except  that 
we  shall  know  some  good  stories  to  tell  our 
grandchildren.  Good-by ! " 

"  Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay !  Coog  — 
Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay !" 

The  deep  sounds  came  from  a  dark  thicket  of 
fir-trees  ahead  of  the  Bear.  It  was  night.  He 
had  talked  a  great  deal  and  had  not  noticed  the 
darkness  coming  into  the  forest. 

18 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay !  Coog  — 
Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay !" 

"That's  the  Owl-person,"  mused  the  Bear, 
as  he  climbed  over  a  dead  tree  on  the  ground. 
"That's  the  Owl-person,  and  he  is  speaking 
Piegan  to-night.  I  '11  tell  him  about  the  Coun- 
cil, even  if  I  am  late." 

"Say,  Owl-person,"  he  called. 

"Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  -  -  Sto-kay !"  The 
Owl  paid  no  attention  to  the  Bear.  He  pre- 
tended he  did  not  see  him  and  kept  calling: 
"Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay!"  until  the 
Bear  was  under  the  tree  where  he  sat,  with  his 
big,  round  eyes  peering  into  the  night. 

"Say,  Owl-person,  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  if 
you  will  stop  that  noise.  You  are  speaking 
Piegan.  You  are  saying  that  the  Ghost-people 
are  abroad,  but  I  don't  believe  in  ghosts,  so 
you  needn't  try  to  make  me  believe  you  are 
a  dead  person.  Now,  listen!  The  Wolf,  the 
Deer,  the  Weasel,  and  I,  and  a  lot  of  us  have 
decided  to  call  a  Council  at  the  Big  Lake,  where 

19 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  forest  reaches  to  the  water's  edge,  so  the 
Fish-people  may  come  if  they  choose.  You 
know  that  we  all  have  peculiar  traits,  and  some 
of  us  do  funny  things.  You  sleep  in  the  day- 
time and  hunt  at  night.  All  other  people  sleep 
while  you  wake  the  Echo-people  from  their  beds 
with  your  voice.  I  'd  like  to  know  why,  and  I 
suppose  you  would  like  to  know  how  it  came 
that  my  tail  is  so  short." 

"Yes,  I  would/'  admitted  the  Owl.  "You 
don't  appear  to  be  all  there  with  so  short  a  tail. 
I  've  often  noticed  it.  Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  — 
-Sto-kay!" 

"Oh,  keep  quiet,"  growled  the  Bear. 

"Well,  I  have  to  answer  that  fellow,  don't 
I?"  said  the  Owl.  "What  makes  you  so 
cross?  Hear  him?" 

"Yes,  I  hear  him,  but  can't  you  finish  talking 
before  you  hoot  any  more?" 

"When  is  the  Council  to  be?" 

"When  the  moon  is  full  next  time." 

"Why  the  moon?"  asked  the  Owl.  "The 

20 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

darker  it  is  the  better  I  like  it.  Coog  —  Coog- 
a-noots  —  Sto-kay !" 

"There  you  go  again/'  growled  the  Bear. 

"Well,  I  have  to,"  said  the  Owl.  "You 
don't  know  our  rules.  I  'm  doing  the  best  I 
can.  I  '11  come  to  your  Council,  if  that 's  what 
you  want." 

"That  is  what  I  want,  but  tell  everybody  you 
see,  will  you?  Tell  them  all,  except  the  Fly- 
people  and  the  Mosquitoes.  They  bother  some 
people  terribly,  and  they  don't  know  anything 
worth  telling.  You  '11  tell  everybody,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Excuse  me  a  moment.  Coog  —  Coog- 
a-noots  —  Sto-kay !  I  couldn't  help  it.  It 's  a 
law.  That  fellow  has  called  twice  now,  but 
I  '11  be  at  the  Council.  Besides,  I  '11  tell  every- 
body I  see,  though  I  don't  see  many  people. 
Everybody  is  asleep  when  I  am  out,  but  I  '11 
do  the  best  I  can.  There  's  that  fellow  again. 
Excuse  me.  Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay ! " 
But  the  Bear  had  left  in  disgust. 

"I  don't  care  a  snap  if  that  noisy  person 

21 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

stays  away  from  the  Council  altogether/'  he 
snarled,  as  he  pulled  a  small  stick  from  between 
his  toes.  '  * '  Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay ,' ' ' 
he  said.  "What  a  lie!  He  is  not  a  Ghost- 
person.  I  wonder  if  the  Piegans  know  he  is 
using  their  language  to  tell  lies  in  the  night." 
Then  he  began  to  climb  the  mountain,  wishing 
he  owned  the  Owl's  eyes  to  see  in  the  dark. 

Up,  up  climbed  the  Bear  —  far  up  on  the 
high  mountains  until  he  came  to  the  snow  upon 
their  tops.  " Ha ! "  he  cried.  "This  feels  good 
to  my  feet."  Then  he  rolled  in  the  snow  and 
ate  great  mouthfuls  of  it,  for  he  was  thirsty 
after  his  climb.  "I  '11  soon  be  going  down  the 
hill  now,"  he  laughed,  as  he  shook  himself  to 
free  his  coat  from  the  snow  that  had  stuck  to 
it.  "I  like  it  up  here,  but  there  's  more  to  eat 
down  lower.  The  berries  will  soon  be  ripe 
along  the  streams.  Then  I  shall  feast  every 
day,  as  long  as  they  last.  I  like  the  summer- 
time best,  even  if  I  do  sleep  all  winter.  Sleep- 
ing so  much  gets  to  be  an  old  story.  Why,  I 

22 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

wear  the  fur  off  my  coat  lying  around  so  long  as 
I  have  to.  I  guess  that  Weasel-person  wouldn't 
like  it  so  well  as  he  thinks  he  would.  Well, 
here  I  go  down  the  mountain." 

The  moon  was  up.  It  was  a  very  bright 
moon,  and  its  light  fell  along  the  deer  trail 
that  led  down  the  mountain-side  to  the  river, 
passing  close  to  where  the  Beaver  was  at  work 
in  a  grove  of  quaking-aspens.  A  tree  fell  just 
as  the  Bear  reached  the  place,  and  he  stopped 
near  the  top  of  it.  He  kept  quiet  for  a  mo- 
ment, watching  the  Beaver,  who  stood  still 
after  the  tree  had  fallen  with  a  bang,  to  see  if 
anybody  was  near.  But  not  seeing  the  Bear, 
he  had  commenced  to  work  again  when  the 
Bear  spoke.  "Hello!"  he  said.  "Do  you 
work  all  the  time?" 

"I  have  to,"  replied  the  Beaver.  "Where 
are  you  going?" 

"Down  to  the  river.  I  have  business  down 
there.  Besides,  I  wanted  to  see  you,"  the  Bear 
answered. 

23 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"What  do  you  want  to  see  me  about?" 

"Well,  you  see,  the  Weasel  and  I  — that  is, 
the  Weasel,  and  the  Deer,  and  the  Wolf,  and  I, 
and  a  lot  more  of  us  want  to  hold  a  Council 
near  the  Big  Lake,  where  the  forest  reaches  to 
the  water/' 

"What  for?"  asked  the  Beaver,  as  he  cut  a 
white  chip  from  a  big  limb  of  the  tree  he  had 
felled. 

"Oh,  to  begin  with,"  said  the  Bear,  "the 
Weasel  and  I  got  to  talking  and  wondering  how 
the  Animal-people  and  the  Bird-people  came  to 
possess  so  many  peculiarities.  We  wondered 
why  Old-man  made  them  as  he  did,  and  we 
thought  it  would  be  well  to  meet  and  let  each 
one  tell  How  It  Came  About  —  how  he  came 
to  possess  the  strange  powers  that  differ  from 
those  of  others,  don't  you  see?" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  the  Beaver.  "But  I  know 
some  folks  that  might  not  want  to  tell.  That 
Skunk-person,  for  instance.  I  suppose  he  is 
ashamed  of  the  smell  he  makes  in  the  forest." 

24 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"No,  I  don't  believe  he  is,"  declared  the 
Bear.  "And,  anyway,  it  was  given  him  by 
Old-man,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  I  'm  glad  he  gave  it 
to  him  and  not  to  me." 

"So  am  I,  Brother  Beaver.  But  you  have  a 
smell  too,  remember." 

"Smell!  Smell!  Of  course  I  have  a  smell, 
but  it  isn't  a  bad  smell.  It 's  a  sweet  smell. 
Why,  there  isn't  any  sweeter  perfume  than  my 
musk,  and  you  know  it." 

"Well,  I  must  say  that  I  like  it  much  better 
than  that  of  the  Skunk-person,  but  perhaps  he 
thinks  his  musk  is  sweeter  than  yours,"  said  the 
Bear. 

"I  know  he  doesn't!"  declared  the  Beaver. 
"That  person  never  uses  his  musk  unless  he  is 
angry  or  afraid.  He  knows  that  other  people 
do  not  like  it.  The  Skunk  is  a  mean  person. 
Why,  I  have  known  him  to  quarrel  with  others 
near  my  lodge,  and  I  've  even  had  to  move 
afterward." 

25 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Oh,  well,"  said  the  Bear.  "I  wasn't  de- 
fending the  Skunk,  but  let  us  hold  the  Council 
and  hear  him  tell  how  he  came  by  that  smell. 
There  will  be  no  quarrelling.  That's  under- 
stood. I  shall  keep  order  myself.  No  one 
need  be  afraid  of  his  enemies  while  the  Council 
is  in  session,  and  when  it  is  over  time  shall  be 
given  in  which  the  weak  ones  may  hide.  We  '11 
make  it  from  sunup  to  sundown.  After  that 
everything  will  be  as  before." 

"A  lot  of  you  meat-eaters  will  be  hungry  if 
you  have  to  wait  that  long  between  meals," 
laughed  the  Beaver,  "but  I  shan't  mind  it  at 
all.  The  bark  of  the  quaking-aspen,  or  the  wil- 
low, or  the  cottonwood  supplies  my  needs.  I 
can  find  it  any  place  where  there  is  water." 

"Well,  you  were  made  that  way,"  said  the 
Bear.  "Look  at  your  teeth.  Nobody  has 
teeth  like  yours.  Will  you  come  to  the  Coun- 
cil?" 

"When  is  it  to  be  held?" 

"When  the  moon  is  full  next  time." 

26 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Yes,  I  '11  come,  but  I  have  a  lot  to  do.  The 
water  is  going  to  be  low  this  year.  I  shall  have 
to  finish  this  dam  before  the  snows  melt  in  the 
mountains." 

"There  is  plenty  of  water  always,"  said  the 
Bear.  "If  there  is  not  enough  water  here,  why 
don't  you  go  where  there  's  more?" 

"Because  I  like  it  here.  I  can  make  a  nice 
dam  right  here,  easy.  The  bark  on  the  trees 
around  this  place  is  sweeter  than  anywhere  I 
know.  It's  my  home,  and  my  children  are 
small." 

"Say,  Brother  Beaver,  can  you  tell  the  Fish- 
people  about  the  Council?"  asked  the  Bear. 

"I  don't  see  many  Fish  here,"  returned  the 
Beaver.  "You  'd  better  get  the  Otter  to  tell 
them.  He  follows  them  up  the  streams  and 
down  again.  Wherever  they  go,  there  you  '11 
find  him.  There  's  another  mean  person.  He 
loves  to  quarrel  with  me,  and  I  don't  like  quar- 
relling. Why,  he  even  comes  into  my  lodge 
and  fights  with  me  sometimes.  He  is  a  greater 

27 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

warrior  than  I  am,  and  I  always  get  the  worst 
of  it  when  we  fight/' 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  the  Otter-person,"  said 
the  Bear.  "Will  you  speak  to  him  for  me ? " 

"No,  sir.  If  I  tried  to  talk  to  him  he  'd  think 
I  was  looking  for  a  row.  No,  sir,  I  '11  not  hold 
any  conversation  with  that  person,  at  all.  I 
might  see  the  Mink.  He  was  here  to-day.  I 
see  him  quite  often.  There  's  another  person 
with  a  bad  smell,  that  Mink-person." 

"Well,  I  '11  look  for  the  Otter  myself,"  said 
the  Bear,  "and  you  tell  the  Mink  about  the 
Council.  Get  him  to  tell  the  Marten  too. 
I  '11  attend  to  inviting  the  Mountain  Lion,  and 
the  Lynx,  and  all  the  Cat-family.  Don't  forget 
the  date.  My !  but  you  are  making  it  wet  and 
muddy  around  here." 

"That's  the  way  I  like  it,"  retorted  the 
Beaver. 

"Good-by,"  said  the  Bear.  "I  must  be  on 
my  way." 

"  Good-by,"  said  the  Beaver.    "  That  tree  fell 

28 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

right  across  the  deer  trail,  but  I  guess  you  can 
climb  over  it  all  right." 

The  Bear  went  on  and  the  Beaver  began  to 
cut  all  the  limbs  from  the  tree.  "Humph!" 
he  said,  "I  invite  that  Otter-person!"  The 
thought  angered  him,  and  the  white  chips  fell 
to  the  ground  at  each  bite  of  the  long,  curved 
brown  teeth.  "Why,  I  wouldn't  think  of  speak- 
ing to  that  Otter-person.  Just  because  a  per- 
son lives  in  the  water  is  no  sign  that  I  like  him. 
I  don't  care  much  for  the  Council  anyhow.  I 
have  too  much  work  to  do,  but  I  have  said  I  'd 
go,  and  I  will." 

Just  then  the  Mink  ran  along  the  edge  of  the 
little  lake  the  Beaver  was  making  with  his  dam. 

"Come  here  a  minute,"  called  the  Beaver. 

The  Mink  came  to  the  tree.  "  You  are  always 
working,  aren't  you?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  have  to,"  replied  the  Beaver.  "What 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  is  this:  there  is  to  be  a 
Council  at  the  Big  Lake  when  the  moon  is  full 
next  time.  All  the  Animal-people  and  the 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Bird-people  are  invited.  The  Bear  has  been 
here  and  told  me.  Will  you  come?" 

"You  say  that  all  the  people  will  be  there?" 

"That's  what's  intended,"  replied  the 
Beaver. 

"Do  they  know  that  I  am  invited?"  asked 
the  Mink. 

"  Of  course/'  said  the  Beaver.    "  Why  ?  " 

"Well,  I  '11  bet  they  won't  come  if  they  hear 
that  I  '11  be  there  —  that  is,  not  all  of  them." 

"You  haven't  told  me  why  yet,  Brother 
Mink." 

"You  know  why,"  returned  the  Mink. 

"Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  the  Bear  said 
that  there  would  be  no  quarrelling,  and  that  he 
would  keep  order.  Plenty  of  time  will  be  given 
for  the  weak  ones  to  hide  —  from  sunup  to  sun- 
down, after  the  Council  is  over." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Mink,  "that 's  different." 

"Will  you  come?"  asked  the  Beaver. 

"Yes;  and  if  I  see  the  Marten,  shall  I  ask 
him?  He  's  a  nice  person,  the  Marten." 

30 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"  I  wish  you  would/'  said  the  Beaver.  " That 
was  all  I  had  to  say  to  you,  and  I  am  busy. 
I  Ve  got  a  lot  to  do/' 

"Well,  you  are  a  cool  one,  I  must  say/'  de- 
clared the  Mink,  backing  away.  "Ask  a  per- 
son to  come  and  talk  to  you  —  a  person  who  is 
minding  his  own  business  —  ask  him  to  a  party 
and  then  tell  him  to  move  on/' 

"I  didn't  intend  to  be  rude,"  the  Beaver  ob- 
jected. "I  am  going  to  that  Council  myself, 
and  must  get  this  dam  built  before  the  snows 
melt  in  the  mountains.  Pardon  my  seeming 
rudeness,  Brother  Mink." 

"Humph!"  said  the  Mink  to  himself  as  he 
ran  through  a  hollow  log,  looking  for  a  sleeping 
Rabbit  or  a  Mouse,  "I  'd  hate  to  be  so  busy 
that  I  couldn't  talk  to  my  friends.  Besides, 
I  'd  hate  to  have  to  wear  a  tail  like  the 
Beaver's.  He 's  an  awful  homely  person,  but 
he's  smart  —  smarter  than  the  rest  of  us,  I 
guess." 

It  was  daylight  when  the  Bear  reached  the 

31 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

river  that  ran  through  the  beautiful  valley  near 
the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Just  as  he  came  to 
the  level  land  he  found  an  Ant-hill.  " Here's 
my  breakfast!"  he  cried,  and  stirred  the  Ant- 
hill with  his  paw.  The  Ants,  disturbed,  began 
to  swarm  about  their  damaged  home,  and  the 
Bear  licked  them  up  with  his  tongue  by  the 
hundreds.  He  turned  over  stones  too,  and 
ate  the  Bugs  that  ran  out  from  their  hiding- 
places.  Once  in  a  while  he  surprised  a  sleeping 
Mouse  and  put  his  paw  upon  it  before  he  swal- 
lowed it.  "I  Ve  seen  a  lot  of  people/'  he  said, 
as  he  found  a  good  place  for  a  nap.  "I  know 
the  Council  will  be  a  success.  Everybody  I 
have  seen  is  coming,  and  each  one  will  invite 
every  one  else.  I  don't  think  I  need  travel 
much  more.  The  people  will  all  get  an  invi- 
tation, for  such  news  spreads  rapidly.  Heigh- 
ho !  I  'm  sleepy." 

He  lay  down  with  a  great  sigh,  and  was  soon 
fast  asleep.  A  black  Bug  crawled  out  on  a 
willow  limb,  wabbling  and  staggering  as  though 

32 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  bark  were  slippery,  then  fell  plump !  upon 
the  Bear's  back.  A  tiny  Bird  saw  the  Bug 
fall,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  had  lit 
on  the  Bear's  back,  caught  the  Bug  that  was 
tumbling  in  the  fur  there,  and  flown  back  to  a 
tree  near  by.  But  the  Bear  did  not  feel  either 
the  Bug  or  the  Bird,  for  he  was  dreaming 
of  the  coming  Council  at  the  Big  Lake  when 
the  moon  was  full. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  the  Weasel 
had  travelled  far  and  wide.  At  last  he  came 
to  his  own  lodge  and  went  inside.  "My,  but 
I'm  tired/'  he  said  to  his  wife.  "I've  seen 
lots  of  people  and  they  are  coming  to  the  Coun- 
cil; every  one  except  the  Rabbit,  and  the  Bear 
says  he  can  manage  him.  I  guess  with  every 
one  travelling  and  inviting  folks  there  will  be  a 
big  crowd  at  the  Big  Lake  when  the  moon  is 
full  next  time."  Then  he  went  to  sleep,  as  the 
Bear  had  done  over  the  mountain. 

When  the  Bear  awoke  he  found  more  mice 
and  ants  along  the  river,  and  as  he  travelled  he 

33 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

invited  people  to  the  Council.  At  last  he  met 
the  Porcupine  and  asked  him  to  be  sure  and 
come,  but  the  Porcupine  said:  "Why,  the 
Weasel  told  me  about  it,  and  I  promised  him 
I  'd  be  there." 

"Well,  if  that 's  the  case,"  said  the  Bear,  "I 
guess  everybody  's  been  invited.  I  won't  look 
for  any  more  people."  And  he  didn't.  If  he 
met  any  one  he  asked  him  if  he  were  going  to 
the  Big  Lake  when  the  moon  was  full,  and 
every  one  said  "Yes."  So  every  one  knew 
about  it. 

It  looked  as  though  the  weather  would  be 
bad  when  the  moon  was  full.  At  daylight  the 
morning  before  the  Woodpecker  poked  his  head 
out  of  a  hole  in  a  tree  and  looked  at  the  sky. 
"It's  cloudy,"  he  said.  "Mercy!  I  hope  it 
won't  rain." 

The  Bear  had  been  at  the  Big  Lake  all  night. 
He  looked  at  the  sky  when  the  morning  was 
coming  into  the  forest,  and  said  to  the  Weasel, 
who  had  just  arrived:  "There  are  clouds  in  the 

34 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

sky,  but  I  think  they  will  go  away.  I  'm  glad 
you  have  come.  There  is  a  lot  to  do  here/' 
He  began  to  gather  wood  for  the  Council-fire, 
and  to  pile  it  near  the  water  on  the  sandy  shore 
of  the  lake.  "We  won't  light  the  fire  until 
night,"  he  said.  "But  it  will  take  a  lot  of  wood 
when  the  fire  is  burning.  You  can  gather  kin- 
dling. Get  some  birch  bark  —  that 's  the  best. 
It  always  burns,  wet  or  dry." 

All  day  the  Bear  and  Weasel  worked  gather- 
ing wood  and  kindling  and  cleaning  up  the 
Council  Ground,  near  the  spot  where  they  in- 
tended to  build  the  fire  when  night  came.  The 
place  was  beautiful.  The  big  trees  grew  close 
to  the  water,  and  thick  green  bushes  were  scat- 
tered about  as  though  they  had  been  planted 
for  the  occasion.  There  was  just  one  stone  on 
the  sandy  beach,  and  that  was  a  large  one  near 
the  spot  that  had  been  selected  for  the  fire. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  the  forest 
was  still,  when  the  Bear  and  the  Weasel  took 
a  nap  in  the  shade  of  the  trees.  The  sky  had 

35 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

cleared  and  the  weather  was  fine.  "Don't 
let  me  sleep  too  late,"  said  the  Bear.  "We 
must  have  the  fire  going  before  the  moon 
comes." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Weasel.  "But  I'm 
pretty  tired." 

He  curled  up  in  the  fur  on  the  Bear's  back, 
and  in  a  minute  both  were  sleeping.  Hours 
went  by.  The  Shadow-people  crept  out  of  the 
forest  and  played  about  the  sleeping  pair  under 
the  trees.  Then  they  went  out  on  the  rippling 
waters  of  the  Big  Lake  and  danced  in  glee. 
Still  the  Bear  and  the  Weasel  slept.  Darkness 
came,  and  the  Shadow-people  ran  away.  The 
wind  stirred  the  leaves.  And  then  there  were 
low  voices  in  the  bushes  about  the  spot  where 
the  Council  was  to  be  held.  "There's  nobody 
here,"  whispered  the  Mouse  to  the  Chipmunk, 
who  had  just  arrived. 

Then  a  stick  cracked  just  back  of  them,  and 
both  scampered  away  and  hid  themselves. 
"What  was  that?"  gasped  the  Mouse. 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Sounded  like  the  Wolf  to  me/'  said  the 
Chipmunk.  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  stay  around 
here  long." 

Right  over  their  heads  there  came  the  sound 
of  tramping  feet.  "That 's  the  Deer,"  said 
the  Chipmunk.  "  I  know  his  footsteps.  They 
are  all  coming,  it  seems,  but  where  's  the  fire,  I 
wonder?" 

"Maybe  they  have  changed  the  date,  or 
something,"  suggested  the  Mouse.  "The  moon 
is  coming  and  there  is  no  fire." 

Many  pairs  of  fiery  eyes  peered  through  the 
bushes  at  the  pile  of  wood  the  Bear  had  gath- 
ered. All  wondered  at  the  silence,  but  none 
ventured  out  of  the  bushes.  The  trees  were 
full  of  birds  overhead,  and  once  in  a  while  a  dry 
stick  would  crack  under  the  feet  of  some  heavy 
person  on  the  ground,  but  every  one  was 
waiting  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  when 
"OOOOUUUUuuuuuu !  OOOOUUUUuuuuuu !" 
howled  the  Wolf,  as  the  full  moon  came  into 
the  sky.  "OOOOUUUUuuuuu!" 

37 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"My!"  said  the  Mouse. 

"That's  a  dreadful  voice!"  said  the  Chip- 
munk, and  shivered. 

It  made  nearly  every  one  nervous,  but  not 
one  ran  away. 

"What's  that!  Say,  what's  that!"  The 
Bear  sat  up  and  the  Weasel  fell  from  his  back. 
"You're  a  fine  one!"  growled  the  Bear. 
"You've  let  me  sleep  too  long.  There's  the 
full  moon  and  nobody  's  here.  Help  me  make 
the  fire,  quick!" 

"There  they  are,"  whispered  the  Chipmunk, 
as  the  tiny  flame  the  Bear  had  started  began  to 
grow  and  crackle  among  the  dry  sticks  and 
birch  bark.  "There  they  are." 

There  was  a  buzz  of  voices  in  the  bushes,  and 
the  Wolf  walked  toward  the  growing  fire  and 
spoke  to  the  Bear.  "How,  how,  my  brother!" 
greeted  the  Bear.  "Are  many  here?" 

"The  brush  is  full  of  people,"  declared  the 
Wolf.  "I  saw  a  lot  of  them  as  I  came  along. 
They  were  wondering  where  you  were." 

38 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"  I  was  asleep.  I  '11  confess  it.  I  was  asleep/' 
said  the  Bear,  with  a  sour  look  at  the  Weasel. 
Then  he  called:  "Come,  everybody !  Come  out 
of  the  bushes.  I  will  see  that  there  is  no  quar- 
relling here.  The  Wolf  will  help  me  to  keep 
order,  won't  you,  Brother  Wolf?" 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  the  Wolf.  "I  intend  to 
behave,  myself,  and  we  will  see  that  the  rest 
behave,  too." 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  bushes,  and  finally  the 
Porcupine  shuffled  toward  the  fire. 

"Oh,  of  course  he  isn't  afraid,"  whispered  the 
Chipmunk  behind  his  hand.  "His  quills  pro- 
tect him." 

But  others  followed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a 
great  semicircle  had  formed  near  the  fire. 
There  was  much  changing  of  positions,  though. 
For  the  Mouse  didn't  like  the  Weasel,  and  the 
Rabbit  (who  had  finally  come)  despised  the 
Bob-cat. 

"Why,  my  goodness!  I  won't  hurt  you,"  said 
the  Lynx-person  to  the  Grouse. 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"  I  know  you  won't,  but  I  just  don't  like  you, 
that 's  all,"  replied  the  Grouse,  moving  away. 
But  at  last  they  were  quiet. 


40 


CHAPTER  II 

'TpHE  Bear  stood  near  the  fire  and  spoke  to 
-••  them.  He  told  them  what  the  Council 
was  for,  and  said  that  they  must  all  go  hungry 
while  the  meeting  was  being  held.  "I  '11  take 
the  life  of  any  one  here  who  quarrels  with  his 
friends  or  enemies  about  this  fire.  We  have 
come  here  to  learn  —  not  to  fight,"  he  declared. 
Then  he  put  more  wood  upon  the  fire,  and  the 
light  fell  on  the  water  of  the  Big  Lake.  Fishes 
stuck  their  heads  up  for  a  moment  and  spoke 
a  word  or  two.  One,  who  seemed  to  be  a  chief, 
said  that  the  Fish-people  were  there  to  look 
and  listen.  "If,"  he  said,  "we  can  help  any  we 
will  do  it,  but  we  can't  live  out  there  by  the 
fire.  We  have  our  enemies  and  they  do  not  all 
live  in  the  water.  I  guess  that  everybody  has 
his  enemies,  though.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say. 
I  'm  out  of  breath." 
As  the  Chief-fish  finished  speaking  the  Turtle 

41 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

crawled  out  of  the  Big  Lake  and  waddled 
toward  the  Council.  The  firelight  shone  on 
his  smooth,  wet  back  as  he  crossed  the  sandy 
beach  toward  the  Bear,  who  cried,  "Welcome, 
Brother  Turtle — you  who  live  in  the  water 
and  on  the  land  —  welcome  I" 

The  Turtle  found  a  place  not  too  close  to  the 
fire,  where  he  stopped  and  blinked  at  the  blaze 
in  wonder. 

Then  the  Bear  sang  his  war-song  and  danced 
about  the  fire,  crying:  "The  Council  is  open! 
The  Council  is  open!  All  will  behave.  I  am 
the  Big  Chief  here.  The  Wolf  is  also  a  Chief 
and  will  help  me  to  keep  order  while  we  are 
here.  Let  all  take  heed  lest  they  get  into 
trouble.  I  will  now  call  on  the  Skunk  to  tell 
us  how  he  came  to  possess  the  smell  that 
makes  his  friends  wonder  and  his  enemies 
afraid.  Listen  to  the  Skunk-person." 

The  Skunk  stepped  out  into  the  firelight,  and 
there  was  a  murmur  among  the  people  as  he 
cliinbed  upon  the  big  rock  near  the  fire. 

42 


The  Council 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Silence!"  commanded  the  Bear,  and  the 
murmuring  ceased  at  once. 

"Oh,  Chief  of  the  Council,"  began  the  Skunk. 
"Oh,  Chief  of  the  Council  and  all  assembled, 
listen!  My  robe  of  black-and-white  and  my 
smell  were  given  to  me  by  OW-man  for  service 
rendered  him  in  time  of  need.  Once  I  was  plain 
to  look  upon.  Now  I  am  beautiful  —  more 
beautiful  than  any  of  you.  Once  I  had  no 
weapon  of  defense  save  my  teeth.  Now  I  can 
put  my  enemies  to  flight  by  making  a  smell.  I 
could  break  up  this  Council  if  - 

"Oh,  don't  do  it!  Don't!"  cried  a  dozen 
voices  in  fright. 

"I  don't  intend  to,"  said  the  Skunk.  "But 
I  always  had  a  smell,  even  before  Old-man  gave 
me  the  one  I  now  possess,  though  my  clothes 
were  plain  and  homely.  But  before  I  tell  the 
story  of  How  It  Came  About,  I  must  ask  if 
the  Bumble-bee-person  is  here." 

"Yes,  yes!"  cried  the  Bee. 

"Shall  I  tell  the  story?"  asked  the  Skunk. 

43 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"If  I  do  tell  it,  you  will  not  have  to  talk  here, 
for  your  story  will  be  told  to  the  Council/' 

"Yes,  tell  it,  of  course.  I  can't  talk  well, 
anyhow." 

The  Skunk  cleared  his  throat  and  then  he 
began: 

"A  long  time  ago  OW-man  was  travelling  in 
the  forest.  He  was  looking  for  a  roasting-stick, 
and  came  to  a  choke-cherry  tree  that  was 
loaded  with  blossoms.  Perfume  was  in  the  air 
all  about  the  bush,  and  the  Bumble-bee-people 
were  there,  gathering  the  honey  from  the  flow- 
ers. OW-man  saw  them,  but  paid  no  attention 
to  them,  and  reached  for  a  limb  of  the  choke- 
cherry  bush,  to  cut  it  off  for  his  roasting-stick. 
He  bent  the  limb  over,  cut  it  off,  and  then 
let  the  stump  fly  back,  Swow!  It  flew  back 
among  the  Bumble-bee-people  with  terrible 
force  and  hurt  many  of  them.  It  killed 
some " 

"One  was  my  own  grandfather/'  interrupted 
the  Bumble-bee. 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Many  were  crippled/'  continued  the  Skunk. 
"And  all  those  left  alive  flew  at  OW-man  with 
their  stingers,  which  hurt  him.  'Oh,  ouch! 
Oh,  ouch!'  he  cried,  as  one  after  another  drove 
his  lance  deep  into  0W-man's  back  and  shoul- 
ders. '  Oh,  ouch !  Oh,  oucho ! ' 

"Then  he  ran  through  the  forest,  calling: 
'Help    me    somebody!    Help!    Help!    These 
people  are  killing  the  man  that  made  you  - 
oh,  oucho!' 

"I  saw  him  coming,  waving  his  arms  and  cry- 
ing like  an  old  woman.  '  Help  me,  my  brother ! ' 
he  begged,  when  he  was  near  me.  'Help  me, 
and  I  will  make  you  beautiful  to  look  upon. 
I  '11  reward  you  —  I  '11  reward  you,  brother.' 

"I  was  sorry  for  him,  for  the  Bumble-bee- 
people  had  punished  him  severely,  but  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do  to  help  him.  I  ran  ahead  of 
him,  thinking,  thinking,  when  Bang!  he  fell 
down  —  he  had  stumbled  over  a  bush.  The 
Bumble-bee-people  were  upon  him  in  a  mo- 
ment. His  body  was  full  of  their  stingers. 

45 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

They  were  like  the  arrows  of  the  Redman  in 
his  back.  I  ran  to  him,  and  then  I  made  the 
smell  I  used  to  have  before  I  got  this  real  good 
one  that  you  know  about. 

"  'Bzzzzzzzz  —  bumblebzzzz  —  bzzzzzz/  cried 
the  Bees,  as  the  smell  grew  stronger.  'Bzzzzzz/ 
and  then  they  ran  away  and  left  0/d-man  on 
the  ground. 

"'Ho!  my  brother!'  he  said,  as  he  sat  up. 
'You  have  saved  me  from  those  wicked  Bum- 
ble-bee-people. You  have  made  them  run  away 
and  grumble  and  bumble.  Now  they  shall 
always  be  grumblers  and  bumble  and  buzz 
throughout  their  lives  to  pay  for  this.  I  hurt 
all  over.  Yes,  I  am  wounded  by  those  people, 
but  I  shall  reward  you,  my  little  brother. 
Bring  me  that  toad's  stool  yonder/ 

"I  brought  it. 

'"Now  get  me  a  bad  egg  —  a  real  bad  egg 
from  a  Grouse's  nest/ 

"  I  got  it,  and  I  found  an  awful  bad  one. 

"'Go,  now,  and  bring  me  a  small  frog/  he  said. 

46 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"And  I  found  a  small  frog  and  brought  it  to 
him. 

"'Now  lie  down  and  sleep/  he  commanded. 

"I  slept. 

'"Wake!  Wake!'  I  heard  him  calling,  and 
I  opened  my  eyes. 

"I  was  black,  with  a  heart-shaped  pattern  of 
white  on  my  back.  Besides,  my  tail  was  white 
and  black  and  fringed  beautifully,  as  you  see  it 
to-night. 

"'Here/  said  Old-man,  'swallow  this/  He 
handed  me  the  skin  of  the  frog  I  had  brought 
him,  and  I  swallowed  it.  Boo!  but  it  tasted 
awful.  There  was  something  inside  it  —  some- 
thing he  had  made  out  of  those  other  things  I 
had  brought  him,  but  I  swallowed  as  he  told  me. 

"'Now  try  that  new  smell/  he  said. 

" I  tried  it,  and  Old-man  ran  away.  'WOW ! ' 
he  cried.  'That 's  lots  worse  than  I  thought  it 
would  be.  Don't  come  near  me.  Keep  away. 
WOW !  Don't  come  near  me/  And  I  didn't. 

"'See/  he  called,  'you  have  made  yellow 

47 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

spots  upon  the  roots  and  trunks  of  the  elm-trees 
with  that  musk/  And  I  had.  They  are  there 
to  this  day  and  will  always  be  there. 

"You  have  all  heard  the  Bumble-bee-people 
buzz  and  bumble  and  grumble.  Well,  that's 
what  they  are  grumbling  about  —  that  old 
smell  of  mine  —  but  it  wasn't  anything  to  this 
one.  They  '11  be  grumbling  as  long  as  there 
are  Bumble-bees  to  pay  for  hurting  Old-man. 
That  is  my  story.  I  have  not  lied." 


CHAPTER  III 

AS  the  Skunk  finished  and  found  a  place  in 
•*  *•  the  Council,  everybody  looked  at  the 
Bumble-bee  and  smiled. 

"You  see?"  said  the  Bear.  "There  is  much 
to  learn.  It  is  well  that  we  are  here.  I  thank 
the  Skunk-person  for  his  truthful  tale.  Let 
none  speak  here  with  a  forked  tongue. 

"I  have  heard  that  the  Muskrat  can  tell  us 
why  there  is  so  much  winter,  and  we  are  all 
anxious  to  know/'  said  the  Bear,  after  he  had 
thanked  the  Skunk  for  his  story.  "Let  the 
Muskrat-person  speak.  And  let  all  listen.  If 
any  one  tells  a  secret  here,  let  none  gossip  about 
it  afterward.  Brother  Muskrat,  will  you  tell  us 
why  there  is  so  much  winter?" 

The  Muskrat  climbed  upon  the  rock  near  the 
fire,  and  the  Birds  in  the  trees  and  bushes  began 
to  twitter  and  stir.  They  were  obliged  to  go 
south  every  year  to  avoid  the  cold  weather. 

49 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Some  people  begin  by  saying  they  are  poor 
speakers,  but  I  don't  like  unnecessary  words, 
myself/'  said  the  Muskrat.  "I  am  to  blame 
for  the  number  of  months  of  winter,  but  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  me  the  whole  year  would  have 
been  winter.'*  There  was  a  loud  jumble  of 
voices  at  this,  and  the  Bear  was  obliged  to  cry, 
"Silence!  Silence!  The  person  is  speaking  to 
you." 

"When  Old-man  made  this  world  he  wanted 
to  suit  some  of  the  people,"  continued  the 
Muskrat.  "He  was  puzzled  over  the  length  of 
time  he  should  make  the  cold  weather  stay 
here.  He  asked  the  Beaver,  and  you  all  think 
that  person  is  very  smart,  but  what  do  you 
suppose  he  told  OW-man  when  he  asked  him  this 
question,  'How  many  moons  shall  be  winter?'" 

"We  don't  know,"  said  the  Badger.  And 
the  Beaver  seemed  confused  while  the  Muskrat 
looked  about  the  audience. 

"That  smart  person,  the  Beaver,"  said  the 
Muskrat,  "told  Old-man  to  make  as  many 

50 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

moons  to  be  winter  as  there  were  notches  on 
his  tail!" 

"Ohooo!  Ohooo!"  came  from  the  people 
about  the  fire. 

"Yes,  he  did.  And  Old-man  said:  'Why,  if 
I  do  that,  the  whole  year  will  be  winter-time. 
I  '11  ask  the  Muskrat  what  he  thinks  about  it/ 
And  he  came  to  my  lodge  and  said:  'Brother 
Muskrat,  how  many  moons  should  be  winter- 
time? I  have  asked  the  Beaver,  and  we  don't 
agree/ 

"'Well/  I  said,  'I  don't  care  if  it 's  all  win- 
ter, but  there  are  other  people  to  consider. 
Make  half  the  moons  cold  and  half  warm  — 
half  summer  and  half  winter/  And  he  did  that. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  know  if  the  Beaver  had 
ever  counted  the  notches  on  his  tail,  but  it 's  all 
notches.  That's  all  there  is  to  that  story." 
And  he  was  soon  back  in  his  place  near  the 
spotted  Loon. 


51 


CHAPTER  IV 

"TT  7E  are  glad  that  Old-man  came  to  see  the 
*  *  Muskrat  about  the  winter-time,"  said 
the  Bear,  "and  we  thank  him  for  what  he  did 
then  and  for  his  story  to-night.  It  is  time  that 
we  heard  from  some  of  the  Bird-people.  I  will 
ask  the  Loon-person  to  tell  us  why  his  bill  is 
not  like  that  of  his  brother,  the  Duck." 

The  Loon  arose  and  walked  to  the  rock.  His 
gait  was  that  of  a  cripple.  "I  never  like  to 
walk,"  he  began.  "I  am  a  cripple  on  the  land 
since  the  night  Old-man  kicked  me  in  the  back 
after  painting  me  for  the  Blind-dance.  He 
kicked  me  for  peeking,  but  you  all  know  about 
that. 

"One  time,  long  before  he  gave  the  Blind- 
dance  to  the  Duck-people,  Old-man  gave  me 
my  sharp  bill.    It  was  this  way: 
"I  live  on  fish,  mostly,  while  the  Duck-people 

52 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

do  not.  But  when  Old-man  made  us  he  gave 
us  all  a  flat,  shovel  bill  and  told  us  what  to  eat. 
I  worked  hard  for  my  living,  but  as  fast  as  I 
could  catch  the  fishes  they  would  get  away. 
My  flat  bill  was  no  good. 

"One  day  OW-man  was  watching  me.  He 
saw  how  hard  I  worked  for  my  living,  and  he 
called  me  to  him.  Then  he  told  me  to  lie  down 
and  sleep.  I  did  sleep,  and  he  took  a  stone 
and  began  to  sharpen  my  bill. 

"It  took  a  long  time,  and  I  couldn't  stay 
asleep,  it  hurt  so  much,  but  at  last  it  was  done, 
and  I  can  hold  almost  any  fish  I  can  catch  since 
that  day.  I  dive  deep  and  stay  under  the 
water  long.  I  am  faster  than  any  of  my  kind 
in  the  water,  but  I  'm  a  bad  cripple  on  the  land 
since  Old-man,  kicked  my  back.  It  made  my 
feet  turn  from  my  body.  That 's  all." 


53 


CHAPTER  V 

"X  TOW,"  said  the  Bear,  after  the  Loon  had 

•**  ^  found  his  place  beside  the  Muskrat,  "let 
the  Porcupine  tell  how  he  came  by  his  quills/' 

"The  Bear  knows  already,"  said  the  Porcu- 
pine, from  his  seat  by  the  side  of  the  Crane. 

"He  speaks  the  truth/'  said  the  Bear.  "But 
I  would  have  him  tell  the  story  just  the  same/' 

"Well,  I  will,  then,"  said  the  Porcupine. 
And  he  walked  out  into  the  firelight. 

"Everybody  knows  I  'm  a  prickly  person," 
began  the  Porcupine.  "Nobody  likes  to  sit 
beside  me.  But  once  I  had  no  quills,  and  the 
Bear  used  to  hurt  me.  All  the  meat-eaters  like 
my  flesh,  and  I  couldn't  live  if  it  were  not  for 
my  quills,  for  I  cannot  fight.  I  am  a  peaceable 
person  always.  Everybody  used  to  pick  on  me, 
but  no  one  does  it  any  more.  Some  people 
have  lied  about  me.  They  have  said  that  I 

54 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

throw  my  quills.  I  do  not.  I  cannot  throw 
them.  Sometimes  I  strike  with  my  tail,  and 
when  I  hit  my  enemies  with  it,  I  leave  many 
quills  deep  in  their  flesh.  These  sometimes  kill 
my  enemies,  as  you  know,  because  they  work  in 
farther  as  they  move  about.  But  long  ago  my 
people  did  not  have  quills,  as  you  shall  see. 

"It  was  in  the  fall,  and  my  great-grandfather 
was  eating  bark  on  a  tree  in  the  forest  when  he 
saw  the  Bear  coming  toward  him.  He  could 
not  run  fast  enough  to  get  away,  so  he  climbed 
the  tree.  If  it  had  been  the  Grizzly  Bear  that 
was  coming,  my  great-grandfather  would  have 
been  safe  in  the  tree,  but  it  was  the  Black  Bear, 
and  he  climbed  up  after  my  great-grandfather. 
My  great-grandfather  ran  out  on  a  limb,  but 
the  Black  Bear  shook  him  out  and  he  fell  to  the 
ground.  As  soon  as  he  got  his  senses  back,  my 
great-grandfather  ran  away,  but  the  Black  Bear 
caught  him  and  rolled  him  over  and  over  on  the 
ground.  'You  tried  to  climb  and  you  tried  to 
run/  said  the  Bear.  'You  can  do  neither  as 

55 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

well  as  I  can.  Ha,  ha,  ha !'  -  and  he  put  his 
paw  on  my  great-grandfather  and  rolled  him 
about  until  the  breath  was  gone  from  his  body. 
Then  he  let  him  up.  'Now  run!'  cried  the 
Bear.  'Run!'  My  great-grandfather  ran,  of 
course,  but  the  Black  Bear  caught  him  again 
near  a  big  haw  bush.  'You  tried  to  get  away, 
didn't  you,  hey?'  said  the  Bear,  as  he  began  to 
roll  my  great-grandfather  again. 

"'Stop  it!  Stop  it!'  came  a  voice  from  be- 
hind the  haw  bush. 

"It  was  Old-man.  'What  are  you  doing  to 
the  Porcupine-person?'  he  asked  the  Black 
Bear. 

"'I  'm  only  playing  with  him/  said  the  Bear. 
'He  's  an  awful  coward.' 

'"You  can't  blame  a  person  if  he  is  made  to 
be  a  coward.  Everybody  wasn't  intended  to 
be  brave.  If  he  were,  what  would  bravery 
amount  to  anyhow?  You  are  too  rough  with 
the  Porcupine-person.  I  '11  fix  things,'  said 
OW-man.  And  he  broke  all  the  thorns  from 

56 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  haw  bush  and  stuck  them  in  my  great- 
grandfather's hair.  'Grow  there!'  he  cried. 
'Grow  fast  and  grow  to  many  times  the  num- 
ber I  have  put  upon  you.  When  enemies  bother 
you  stop  them  with  your  tail/  he  told  my  great- 
grandfather, 'and  when  they  roll  you  about 
they  will  be  sorry  for  it.  Now  get  up  and  go 
away.' 

"My  great-grandfather  got  up  and  went 
away,  and  never  since  that  day  has  the  Black 
Bear  or  anybody  else  bothered  us.  All  our 
people  have  had  quills  since  then,  and  they  al- 
ways will  have  them.  That  is  all  there  is  to 
the  quill  story." 


57 


CHAPTER  VI 

said  the  Bear,  "that 's  the  truth.  I 
guess  I  ought  to  know.  And  now  I  am 
going  to  ask  the  Weasel  why  his  head  is  larger 
around  than  his  body.  Maybe  he  will  tell  why 
he  changes  his  coat,  too." 

"I  helped  to  get  up  this  party/'  said  the 
Weasel,  "and  I  am  ready  to  do  my  part  now 
to  make  it  a  success. 

"Everybody  knows  how  I  came  by  my  white 
robe  in  winter  and  my  brown  coat  in  summer. 
Old-man  gave  them  to  me  for  saving  him  from 
Win-to-coo,  the  Man-eater;  but  why  my  head 
is  so  big  is  another  story  and,  up  to  now,  a 
secret  in  our  family.  After  to-night  it  will  not 
be  a  secret,  for  I  shall  tell  how  I  came  by  it. 

"When  Old-man  made  me  he  fashioned  my 
head  smaller  around  than  my  body,  like  the 
heads  of  other  people.  But  my  small  head 
often  got  me  into  trouble.  One  day  I  was 
hunting,  and  all  I  could  find  was  a  Mouse  and 

58 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

his  family  in  a  hole  in  a  half-rotten  log.  I 
knew  all  the  family  were  at  home,  but  the  hole 
came  out  on  the  other  side  of  the  log,  so  that  if 
I  went  intone  end  the  Mouse  family  was  sure 
to  run  out  at  the  other  end. 

"I  thought  about  it  quite  a  while,  and  finally 
decided  to  dash  into  the  hole  so  fast  they  could 
not  get  out  before  I  caught  them.  So  I  crept 
up  to  the  hole  and  looked  in.  In  fact,  I  poked 
my  head  inside  quite  a  way.  Then  I  backed 
away  and  ran  as  fast  as  I  could  into  the  hole, 
when,  oh!  my  sides  caught  tight  against  the 
sides  of  the  hole.  I  was  going  so  fast  when  I 
got  caught  tight  in  the  hole  that  my  ribs  were 
bent  and  my  heart  almost  stopped  its  beating. 

"I  tried  to  get  out,  but  I  couldn't.  Then  I 
tried  to  drag  myself  ahead,  but  I  couldn't  do 
that  either.  Of  course,  the  Mouse  and  his 
family  had  gone,  but  I  didn't  mind  that.  What 
I  wanted  now  was  to  get  out  or  farther  in  — 
anything  to  relieve  the  pain  in  my  body.  But 
I  couldn't  move  an  inch. 

59 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  was  sure  I  would  die  there  in  the  hole, 
and  I  began  to  cry.  My  breath  was  short,  but 
I  called  as  loudly  as  I  could  for  help.  At  last 
some  one  sat  down  on  the  log.  The  Person 
heard  and  asked,  'Who  is  that  calling  for  help?' 

"'It  is  I,  the  Weasel/  I  answered.  'I  am 
caught  in  this  hole  and  can't  get  out.  Help  me 
or  I  '11  die.' 

"It  was  OW-man  who  answered.  'All  right, 
I  '11  help  you,'  and  he  tore  away  the  sides  of  the 
hole  with  his  fingers  and  let  me  out. 

"'How  did  you  get  in  there?'  he  asked. 

'"Why,  I  chased  a  Mouse  in  there,'  I  told 
him.  '  I  have  to  live.' 

"'You  ought  to  find  out  if  a  hole  is  big 
enough  before  you  go  running  into  it.  Always 
look  into  a  hole  first,'  he  advised. 

"'I  did  look  in,'  I  told  him,  'but  you  made 
my  head  smaller  than  my  body,  and  expected 
me  to  make  my  living  by  hunting  in  holes. 
I  'm  not  to  blame.' 

"'I  was  in  a  hurry  when  I  made  you/  he 

60 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

said.  'Your  head  is  too  long  and  slim,  I  guess. 
I  '11  fix  it  for  you.  Wait  here  until  I  come 
back/  He  went  to  a  creek  near  by,  and  picked 
up  a  smooth  stick  the  high  water  had  left  in 
the  spring.  Then  he  came  back  to  me  and 
began  pounding  my  nose  and  head  with  the 
stick.  My  head  swelled  until  my  eyes  were 
closed  tight  and  I  could  not  see.  I  cried  and 
cried  while  OW-man  was  beating  my  head,  but 
I  am  glad  that  he  did  it  now.  My  eyes  came 
back  and  I  see  as  well  as  ever,  although  my 
head  remained  large  and  my  nose  stubby  from 
the  pounding  he  gave  it  with  the  stick.  Now 
my  head  is  larger  around  than  my  body,  and  I 
can  enter  any  hole  that  will  admit  my  head.  I 
am  not  afraid  in  the  dark  nor  in  any  hole,  for 
the  people  who  live  in  small  holes  are  no  match 
for  me.  I  guess  that  is  all  I  can  tell  you." 


61 


CHAPTER  VII 

"TT7E  all  know  the  Weasel  is  not  afraid," 

said  the  Bear.     "He  is  a  great  warrior, 

even  if  he  is  small.    This  fire  is  getting  low. 

I  '11  just  put  on  some  more  wood."    And  he  did. 

"There,"  said  the  Bear,  "that  is  fine.  Now, 
we  would  like  to  hear  from  some  of  the  people 
that  live  on  the  plains.  I  have  often  wondered 
how  the  Antelope  came  to  be  marked  so  queerly, 
and  I  call  upon  him  to  tell  us  how  he  came  by 
those  strange  markings." 

The  Antelope  bounded  out  into  the  firelight. 
"Look  at  me!"  he  cried.  Then  he  stood  very 
still.  "If  I  stand  still  on  the  plains  I  am  very 
hard  to  see  because  of  my  stripes  and  marks. 
Old-man  gave  them  to  me,  but  I  earned  them 
first,"  he  said.  "A  thousand  of  my  people  may 
be  right  in  the  open  on  the  plains,  and  yet  often 
eyes  will  fail  to  see  them  if  they  all  stand  still. 
But  if  they  were  to  turn  around  and  run,  why 

6:2 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

then  anybody  could  see  them.    This  is  How  It 
Came  About: 

"The  day  was  hot.  The  sun  had  baked  the 
plains  until  they  were  cracked.  The  water- 
holes  were  dry,  and  the  grass  crackled  when 
any  person  walked  upon  it.  The  Badger  stayed 
in  his  hole  in  the  ground.  The  Sage  Hens, 
with  beaks  apart  and  wings  held  away  from 
their  bodies,  walked  about,  looking  for  big  sage- 
bushes  in  which  to  find  relief  from  the  sun. 
Even  the  Rattlesnake  hated  to  crawl  over  the 
plains,  they  were  so  hot  and  dry,  and  the 
Buffalo  had  gone  away  altogether.  But  there 
was  no  place  for  me  to  go.  I  had  to  stay 
on  the  plains.  I  am  no  good  in  the  forest. 
There's  where  I  lost  my  dew-claws,  but  you 
all  know  about  that.  I  'm  better  on  the  plains 
than  the  Deer-person.  I  proved  that  when  I 
won  his  gall  sack  that  morning  when  I  met  him 
on  the  plains.  The  plains  are  my  home,  so  I 
had  to  stay  there.  But  I  was  afraid  I  would 
die  for  want  of  water. 

63 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"The  sun  was  just  coming  up  to  burn  the 
grass  one  morning  when  I  saw  Old-man  coming, 
and  I  waited  for  him.  He  was  all  bent  over 
and  lame  from  long  travelling,  and  when  he 
reached  my  side  he  said:  'Show  me  water/ 

"'I  can't/  I  told  him.  'The  plains-people 
are  all  dying  for  want  of  water,  and  you  will 
die,  too/ 

"'No/  he  said,  'I  can't  die,  but  I  need  a 
drink,  and  I  always  get  what  I  want.  I  made 
the  world  and  I  made  you,  too/ 

'"I  know  you  did/  I  said,  'but  you  should 
have  put  a  river  of  water  on  these  plains,  so 
that  the  people  you  made  to  live  here  could  get 
along.  I  expect  to  die  soon.  I  cannot  stand 
it  much  longer/ 

"'Oh,  I  made  some  mistakes  when  I  made 
the  world.  I  was  in  a  hurry  and  it  was  the 
first  one  I  ever  made,  but/  admitted  OW-man, 
'a  river  would  run  through  this  plain  if  it  came 
about  where  you  are  standing  now.  You  stay 
right  where  you  are  until  I  bring  a  river.  It  is 

64 


HOW  IT  CAME  j\BOUT  STORIES 

so  dry  now  that  in  order  to  get  water  I  shall 
have  to  go  where  it  is/ 

"'I  can't  stand  here/  I  told  him.  'Suppose 
the  Wolf  should  come  along.  He  'd  see  me, 
and  I  'd  have  to  run,  or  he  'd  kill  me.  Besides, 
running  makes  me  more  thirsty/ 

"'That 's  so/  said  Old-man,  'but  I  '11  fix  you 
so  the  Wolf  can't  see  you/ 

"Then  he  went  to  a  bad-land  coulee  and 
brought  some  reddish-brown  dirt  and  some 
white  dirt  and  some  black  dirt.  He  rubbed  it 
into  my  hair  in  stripes  and  queer  half -heart- 
shaped  designs.  Then  he  walked  away  and 
looked  at  me  a  little  while  and  laughed.  'Ha, 
ha,  ha!  Why,  I  can  hardly  see  you,  myself. 
But  I  can  fix  it  a  little  better  yet/  It  was  then 
that  he  marked  my  nose  as  you  see  it.  'There/ 
he  said,  'the  Wolf-person  can't  see  you  as  long 
as  you  stand  still  and  keep  the  wind  from  him. 
I  '11  be  back  with  a  River  as  soon  as  I  can. 
Stand  right  here  so  I  will  know  where  the  River 
will  run  best/ 

65 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Then  he  started  toward  the  north,  and  I 
stood  still.  In  a  little  while  I  heard  some  one 
coming,  and  turned  my  head  to  see  who  it  was. 
It  was  OW-man,  and  he  was  carrying  a  lot  of 
whiter  dirt. 

"'I  was  afraid  you  'd  run  away,  so  I  '11  just 
fix  you  in  a  way  that  will  make  it  foolish  to  run 
when  you  don't  have  to/  He  rubbed  all  of 
the  white  dirt  on  my  rump  until  I  was  whiter 
than  snow  behind.  'There/  he  said,  'you  '11  be 
safe  as  long  as  you  stand  still,  but  if  you  turn 
to  run  everybody  will  be  able  to  see  you. 
Now  I  'm  going  after  the  River/  And  he 
went. 

"The  sun  went  down.  The  moon  came.  In 
the  cool  of  night  the  Wolf  passed  me.  Once 
he  thought  he  saw  me  and  stopped  to  look. 
My  heart  bounded  with  fear,  for  he  was  close 
to  me;  but  at  last  he  went  on.  The  marks  on 
my  body  had  fooled  him  and  I  was  happy.  I 
saw  the  Badger  that  night  too,  but  he  didn't 
see  me.  The  Coyote  killed  a  Jack-rabbit  near 

66 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

by,  but  even  the  Coyote  didn't  see  me,  for  the 
wind  was  wrong  and  did  not  tell  him  I  was  near. 
"At  last  the  morning  came.  The  sun  like  a 
ball  of  fire  came  into  sight,  and  then,  when  I 
looked  to  the  north,  I  saw  something  coming. 
I  watched  until  my  eyes  ached.  Finally  a  wind 
came  from  the  northward,  and  a  great  noise 
that  made  the  earth  tremble.  I  was  frightened, 
but  I  dared  not  run  away.  At  last  I  heard 
singing.  It  was  Old-man,  and  his  words  were 
these: 

* ' '  Oh,  my  people  of  the  plains,  I  have  brought  you 

a  River. 
Drink  of  the  water  at  will.     It  shall  never  run 

dry. 
Its  bottom  shall  always  be  covered  with  water/ 

"Behind  him  I  saw  the  waters  creeping  and 
cutting  their  way  through  the  hot  land.  Herds 
of  Buffalo  were  following,  flocks  of  Birds  were 
singing,  and  the  bushes  were  growing  green 
along  the  way  of  the  water.  It  was  a  beautiful 
and  at  the  same  time  a  terrible  sight. 

67 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"At  last  Old-man  saw  me,  for  he  knew  I  was 
there.  He  waved  his  hand  and  told  me  to  get 
out  of  the  way,  and  I  did.  When  he  passed 
me  he  was  singing  that  song,  but  he  did  not 
speak  to  me.  He  went  on  out  of  sight,  and  the 
River  followed  him  all  the  way.  It  is  as  he 
said  it  would  be;  the  River  never  runs  dry,  and 
nobody  can  see  me  if  I  stand  still.  That 's  how 
I  came  by  these  marks.  I  have  told  my  story." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"TT7E  are  all  thankful  to  the  Antelope,  not 
only  for  his  story,  but  for  the  part  he 
played  in  bringing  the  River  to  the  plains.  It 
was  news  to  me.  While  we  are  talking  about 
water,  it  would  be  well  to  hear  from  the  Crane- 
person.  Tell  us,  Brother  Crane,  how  you 
came  by  those  long  legs  and  your  long  neck 
and  bill.  I  have  often  wondered." 

The  Crane  walked  out  before  the  people,  and 
a  Fish  called  from  the  lake:  "Tell  the  truth, 
O  Crane.  The  Fish-people  suffer  because  of 
your  legs  and  neck  and  bill." 

"I  will  speak  the  truth,"  said  the  Crane. 
Then  he  began: 

"One  day  I  was  standing  in  some  shallow 
water  at  the  edge  of  a  lake.  My  legs  were 
short  and  I  could  not  swim,  so  I  had  to  stay 
in  shallow  water.  Even  if  I  could  have  waded 
deep,  I  could  not  have  reached  food  that  was 

69 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

on  the  bottom,  because  my  neck  was  short  and 
so  was  my  bill;  but  I  was  doing  the  best  I  could. 
The  sun  was  getting  low  when  I  saw  somebody 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  lake.  I  watched  the 
Person  and  at  last  saw  him  wade  out  into  the 
water,  with  a  stick  in  his  hand.  It  was  Old- 
man,  and  he  saw  me.  'Come  here,  Crane-per- 
son/ he  called,  and  of  course  I  had  to  go.  'I 
want  you  to  help  me/  said  OW-man,  when  I 
was  near  to  him. 

'"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?'  I  asked. 

"'I  am  going  to  give  a  big  dance  to  the  Ani- 
mal-people when  the  moon  is  full,  and  I  want 
to  make  me  a  fine  necklace  to  wear  that  night/ 
he  said.  'I  am  trying  to  get  enough  of  these 
white  shells,  but  they  are  on  the  edge  of  the 
deep  water,  and  I  can't  reach  them.  They  roll 
about  under  this  stick.  And  I  have  promised 
to  give  that  dance  to  the  Animal-people/ 

"I  remembered  that  Blind-dance  he  gave  to 
the  Duck-people,  but  I  didn't  say  anything. 

"'Will  you  help  me?'  he  asked. 

70 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"'How  can  I  help  you,  OW-man?  I  can't 
swim.  I  can't  dive.  My  legs  are  too  short  to 
walk  out  there  where  the  white  shells  are  lying.' 

"'Well,  I  've  got  to  have  that  necklace/  he 
said.  'Come  here/ 

"I  walked  up  close  and  he  grabbed  my  legs 
and  began  to  pull  them.  He  put  his  foot  against 
my  body  and  pulled  and  pulled.  I  cried  out, 
it  hurt  me  so,  but  he  only  laughed.  'Ha,  ha, 
ha !  I  '11  fix  you  so  you  can  walk  out  where  the 
white  shells  are  lying.  There!'  And  he  gave 
an  awful  pull,  and  my  legs  were  as  you  see  them 
to-night. 

'"Now  walk  out  there  and  get  me  a  lot  of 
those  shells/  he  said. 

"I  walked  out  to  the  edge  of  the  deep  water. 
The  bottom  was  dotted  with  the  shells.  I 
could  see  them  in  the  clear  water  plainly. 
'What's  the  matter?'  he  called.  'Don't  you 
see  any  shells?' 

"'Yes/  I  told  him.  'I  see  many  shells  — 
very  fine  ones,  but  I  can't  reach  them.  My 

71 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

legs  are  so  long  I  can't  reach  the  bottom  with 
my  bill.  Why,  I  don't  see  how  I  shall  ever 
make  my  living  now !  I  shall  have  to  sit  down 
to  eat/ 

"'Ha,  ha,  ha!  Ha,  ha,  ha!' he  laughed.  'I 
am  always  making  mistakes.  Come  out  here/ 

"'Don't  you  hurt  me  any  more,'  I  begged. 

"'Come  here  to  me!'  he  cried,  and  I  waded 
ashore. 

"He  grabbed  my  head  and  stretched  my  neck 
until  I  was  sure  he  would  break  it.  My !  but 
it  hurt  terribly.  'There,  now  see  if  you  can 
pick  up  things  near  your  feet,'  he  said.  I  tried, 
but  I  couldn't  do  it.  'Say,'  he  said,  'if  I  stretch 
your  neck  any  more  you  would  have  to  be 
working  all  the  time  in  order  to  get  enough  food 
through  it  to  feed  your  body.  But  I  've  got  a 
plan.  Come  closer!'  (I  had  walked  away 
from  him.)  I  came  closer,  and  then  he  grabbed 
my  bill  and  pulled  it  out  long  and  sharp-pointed. 

" '  Ouch !    Oh ! '  I  cried,  and  he  laughed. 

"'Now  try  to  pick  up  something  near  your 

72 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

feet!'  I  tried,  and  did  it.  'Now  I've  fixed 
you  so  you  can  help  me.  Go  and  get  a  lot  of 
those  little  white  shells/  And  I  did— -I  had 
to.  That 's  how  I  came  by  my  long  legs,  my 
long  neck  and  bill,  and  they  have  been  very 

useful  ever  since 

"We  should  say  they  had!"  called  the  Fish- 
people. 


73 


CHAPTER  IX 

"f~pHAT'S  a  good  story,  Brother  Crane," 

•*•  said  the  Bear.  "Be  seated  and  I  shall 
ask  the  Mouse-person  why  it  is  that  all  his 
people  look  exactly  alike.  Please  keep  very 
quiet,  for  the  Mouse  has  a  small  voice." 

The  little  Mouse  ran  out  and  jumped  upon 
the  rock  near  the  fire.  "I  'm  glad  I  'm  here," 
he  began.  "I  have  had  a  good  time,  and  I  'm 
anxious  to  help  others  to  be  happy,  so  I  will 
tell  a  family  secret.  I  hope  none  of  you  will 
repeat  it  where  Win-to-coo  may  hear,  lest  he 
revenge  himself  upon  my  father,  who  is  old." 

"We  will  never  tell  it,"  cried  the  people. 
"Go  on  with  the  story." 

"It  happened  in  the  forest,"  began  the 
Mouse.  "My  father  was  a  young  man  then, 
and  quite  handsome.  He  was  a  spotted  Mouse 
and  you  would  have  known  him  anywhere. 
He  was  different  from  the  others  because  of  a 
white  spot  on  his  back.  In  those  days  no  two 

74 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Mice  looked  alike,  but  my  father  was  called 
the  handsomest  Mouse  alive.  He  lived  with 
my  mother  in  a  hollow  log  in  the  forest,  and 
one  day  he  went  hunting.  I  was  a  baby  then, 
but  I  remember  what  happened.  I  heard  my 
father  tell  my  mother  about  it  that  night. 

"My  father  was  near  a  large  fallen  tree 
when  he  heard  some  one  groan  —  some  large 
Person.  He  was  frightened,  and  was  about  to 
run  away  from  the  place,  when  he  heard  a 
voice  calling:  'Won't  somebody  help  me?  I 
made  the  world  and  everything  on  it.  Will 
you  give  me  no  help?' 

"My  father  crept  toward  the  spot,  and  there 
was  Old-man,  tied  hand  and  foot  with  ropes  of 
cedar  bark.  He  could  roll  over  —  that  was  all, 
for  his  knees  were  tied  so  that  he  could  not 
bend  them  to  stand  up.  My  father  ran  close 
to  the  prisoner,  and  asked:  'Why  are  you  here? 
Who  has  done  this  ? ' 

"'It  is  Win-to-coo,  the  Man-eater,  that  has 
done  this/  sobbed  OW-man.  'He  caught  me 

75 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

as  I  slept  and  tied  me  with  these  ropes  of  cedar 
bark.  He  has  gone  in  search  of  a  knife  with 
which  to  take  my  life.  Save  me,  little  brother, 
save  me,  the  man  that  made  you/ 

"'I  wish  you  had  made  fewer  enemies  for 
me/  said  my  father,  'but  I  '11  see  what  I  can 
do/  Then  he  began  to  gnaw  at  the  ropes  of 
cedar  bark.  He  worked  fast,  for  my  father  was 
afraid  of  Win-to-coo,  the  Man-eater. 

"He  had  cut  the  bark  that  held  Old-man's 
legs  when  he  heard  somebody  coming.  'Run !' 
said  my  father.  'Run!  You  can  run  now, 
and  I  will  follow  and  finish  the  job  when  you 
stop  running/ 

"OW-man  got  to  his  feet  and  ran.  Win-to- 
coo  came  out  of  the  brush  and  saw  Old-man 
running  away.  'Ha!'  he  cried.  'Who  has 
dared  help  Old-man?9 

"Then  he  saw  my  father  and  chased  him  a 
long  way,  but  my  father  hid  in  a  hole  in  a  tree. 
'I  know  you  by  the  spot  on  your  back,  and 
some  day  I  will  find  you  F  cried  Win-to-coo. 

76 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"That  frightened  my  father,  for  he  knew  that 
the  Man-eater  had  recognized  him.  He  kept 
still,  and  when  Win-to-coo  had  gone  away  he 
crawled  out  of  the  hole  in  the  tree  and  listened 
a  long  time.  Then  he  followed  after  Old-man, 
whom  he  found  near  a  river. 

"'I  thought  you'd  never  come/  said  Old- 
man.  'Do  you  suppose  a  person  wants  to  be 
tied  up  all  day?  Hurry  now  and  cut  these 
bark  ropes  from  my  arms.' 

"'You  are  not  the  only  one  that  is  in  trouble,' 
said  my  father.  'I  helped  you,  and  now  I  must 
suffer,  for  Win-to-coo  saw  me/ 

"'He  won't  know  you/  declared  Old-man. 

"'Yes,  he  will/  said  my  father.  'He  said  he 
would  know  me  by  the  spot  on  my  back/ 

" '  He  said  that,  did  he  ?  Well,  there  's  where 
he  made  a  mistake.  A  person  should  not  tell 
all  he  knows.  Hurry  and  cut  these  ropes,  and 
I  '11  fix  that  spot  for  you.  I  '11  make  you  look 
like  your  cousin.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  That  will  be  a 
joke  on  him/ 

77 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"'Yes,  it  will/  said  my  father,  'but  it  won't 
be  funny  to  my  cousin.  No,  that  won't  do. 
Each  person  should  suffer  his  own  punishments. 
My  cousin  isn't  to  blame  for  helping  you. 
Your  plan  doesn't  suit  me.  I  won't  cut  these 
ropes  until  you  tell  me  a  better  way.' 

"'Well,  then/  said  Old-man,  'you  cut  these 
ropes  and  I  '11  make  every  Mouse  that  lives  now 
or  that  ever  shall  live  to  look  alike.  Their  own 
mothers  shall  be  unable  to  tell  them  apart  by 
their  looks.  That  will  fix  it,  won't  it?' 

"'Yes/  said  my  father,  and  he  cut  the  ropes. 

"That  is  how  we  all  came  to  be  alike." 

Having  finished  his  story,  the  Mouse  ran 
back  to  his  seat,  and  the  Bear  said:  "I  hope 
that  no  person  who  has  heard  the  Mouse's 
secret  will  ever  tell  it  where  Win-to-coo  may 
hear,  for  his  father  would  suffer,  and  the  Man- 
eater  is  no  friend  of  any  one  near  this  fire." 


78 


CHAPTER  X 

Bear  threw  a  big  log  on  the  blaze,  and 
-*•  the  sparks  flew  up  in  a  red  cloud  that 
looked  pretty.  "The  Lynx-person  is  a  cousin 
of  the  Mountain  Lion/'  he  said,  "and  we  would 
like  to  know  how  it  comes  that  his  tail  is  so 
short.  Will  you  tell  us  about  it,  Brother 
Lynx?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  will,"  said  the  Lynx,  walk- 
ing toward  the  rock  by  the  fire.  "I  suppose 
you  have  noticed  that  the  end  of  my  tail  is 
black?"  began  the  Lynx.  "Once  it  was  long, 
and  the  end  was  not  black.  My  tail  was  just 
as  long  as  my  body,  and  I  was  handsome.  But 
I  was  foolish  when  I  was  young,  and  my  fool- 
ishness cost  me  my  tail. 

"I  was  out  on  the  plains  one  winter  day.  I 
had  come  down  from  the  mountains  by  follow- 
ing a  creek  that  flowed  to  the  low  country.  I 
had  killed  a  few  Rabbits  after  I  left  the  moun- 

79 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

tains,  but  I  was  still  hungry  when  I  got  out  on 
the  plains.  There  were  a  few  trees  and  lots  of 
bushes  along  the  stream  that  I  was  following, 
but  the  weather  was  growing  colder  every  min- 
ute, and  I  wanted  to  kill  something  before  night. 
My  coat  is  warm  in  winter,  so  I  didn't  mind  the 
cold  much,  although  the  wind  of  the  plains  is 
stronger  than  that  of  the  mountains  and  forests. 

"The  day  was  dying  when  I  saw  some  Ante- 
lope in  a  coulee  not  far  from  the  creek.  They 
can  beat  me  running,  and  they  wouldn't  come 
near  the  trees  that  grew  near  the  creek.  If 
they  had,  I  could  have  climbed  a  tree  and 
sprung  upon  the  smallest  among  them  and 
killed  him. 

"I  waited  a  long  time.  The  wind  was  terri- 
ble. The  cold  grew  stronger  and  stronger.  At 
last  a  blizzard  came  out  of  the  north,  and  even 
my  coat  was  not  heavy  enough  to  keep  out  the 
cold.  Hmm-mmm-mmm — ow — oo-o,  sang  the 
awful  wind,  and  the  Antelope  huddled  together 
in  the  coulee.  I  was  hardly  able  to  see  them. 

so 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  find  shelter  and 
go  hungry  to  sleep,  when  from  behind  a  cotton- 
wood  tree  Old-man  came  toward  me. 

"'Why  don't  you  kill  one  of  those  Antelope?' 
he  asked. 

"'I  can't,'  I  said. 

"'Why? 'he  asked. 

"'Because  I  can't  run  fast  enough.  You 
ought  to  know.  You  made  both  of  us.' 

"'Well,  we  must  have  meat,'  he  said.  'You 
crawl  out  to  that  sage-bush  and  hold  up  your 
tail.  Keep  moving  the  end  of  it  a  little.' 

"I  started  to  do  as  he  said.  'Wait !  not  yet ! 
I  must  fix  you  first.' 

"Then  he  got  out  his  paint-sack  and  painted 
the  tip  of  my  tail  bright  red.  'There,'  he  said. 
'Now  go  and  do  as  I  told  you.  When  they  see 
that  red  on  your  tail,  they  will  come  to  see 
what  it  is.  As  soon  as  they  are  close  enough 
spring  upon  one  of  them  and  I  will  be  there  to 
help  you  hold  him.  If  you  don't  kill  him  I 
will.' 

81 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  had  no  trouble  in  getting  to  the  sage- 
brush unseen  by  the  Antelope,  and  I  stuck  my 
tail  up  over  its  top.  I  began  moving  the  red 
tip  about  as  Old-man  had  told  me.  Slowly  I 
moved  it  back  and  forth,  the  wind  making  it 
hard  to  do.  I  thought  the  Antelope  would 
never  notice  my  tail,  for  the  snow  that  the 
wind  was  blowing  made  it  hard  to  see  very  far. 

"At  last,  however,  a  Buck-antelope  noticed 
the  red  tip  of  my  tail.  He  walked  a  step  or 
two  toward  me.  I  held  my  tail  still,  and  he 
stopped  and  looked  again,  as  though  he  thought 
he  had  been  mistaken.  While  he  looked  I 
moved  it  again  ever  so  little.  He  came  toward 
me  a  few  steps  closer,  then  stopped.  I  held 
my  tail  still  a  little  while,  then  moved  it  once 
more,  and  he  came  on.  The  rest  followed  him. 

"At  last  he  stopped,  but  too  far  away,  and  I 
wiggled  and  waved  my  tail  a  good  deal,  for  I 
was  growing  anxious.  My  tail  was  getting 
cold.  The  blood  had  left  it,  and  had  gone  into 
my  body,  but  still  I  continued  to  wiggle  its 

82 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

painted  top.  The  buck  turned  a  little  and 
came  closer  and  stopped  again.  He  was  nearly 
close  enough,  but  he  was  a  big  one  —  too  big 
to  handle  alone.  I  tried  to  move  my  tail  again. 
But  it  wouldn't  wiggle.  Then  I  thought  I  'd 
let  it  down;  but  it  wouldn't  come  down — it 
was  frozen  stiff. 

"When  I  knew  what  had  happened  I  was 
angry  with  Old-man,  and  my  anger  lent  me 
strength  and  speed.  I  sprang  upon  the  buck. 
But  he  would  have  escaped  me  if  Old-man 
hadn't  come  to  my  aid.  Together  we  killed 
him. 

"'Ha,  ha,  ha !'  laughed  Old-man.  'Where 's 
your  tail?' 

"I  looked.  It  was  gone  —  broken  off  within 
two  inches  of  my  body.  My  beautiful  tail  was 
gone !  I  began  to  cry. 

"'Never  mind,  brother,'  said  Old-man.  'I  '11 
fix  it,  and  remember  that  we  have  meat.  A 
full  stomach  is  better  than  a  tail.' 

"  He  built  a  fire  and  warmed  my  body.    Then 

83 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

he  took  a  blackened  stick  from  the  fire  and 
colored  the  stump  of  a  tail  the  blizzard  had 
left  me.  'It  isn't  much  of  a  tail/  he  said,  'but 
that  black  end  will  make  it  good  to  look  at. 
Whenever  you  see  it  you  will  remember  this 
day/  And  I  do. 

"That 's  the  way  I  lost  my  tail,  and  if  my 
cousin,  the  Mountain  Lion,  ever  listens  to  Old- 
man,  he  is  foolish.  The  Bob-cat-person  must 
have  lost  his  tail,  too." 

"I  did,"  said  the  Bob-cat.  "A  Person  cut 
it  off.  There 's  no  story  to  that." 

"Well,  my  story  is  told,  anyhow.  I  thank 
you  for  listening,"  said  the  Lynx. 


84 


CHAPTER  XI 

night  was  already  old  when  the  Lynx 
-*•  began  to  speak,  and  when  he  finished  the 
moon  had  gone  down  behind  the  big  trees  in 
the  forest.  The  Bear  stirred  the  fire  to  make 
more  light,  and  the  Weasel  put  some  birch  bark 
upon  the  blaze.  The  bark  caught  fire  in  a 
minute,  and  the  firelight  reached  farther  into 
the  forest  than  ever  before.  When  the  Bear 
looked  at  the  people  before  him,  he  noticed  the 
Rabbit,  sitting  apart  from  the  rest. 

"I  see  our  brother  the  Rabbit  is  with  us," 
he  said.  "Will  he  come  out  to  this  rock  near 
the  fire  and  tell  us  how  he  came  by  his  funny 
turned-up  tail,  and  why  he  never  winks  his 
eyes?" 

"If  you  will  promise  not  to  let  any  of  my 
enemies  sneak  up  behind  me  while  I  am  talk- 
ing, I  '11  tell  my  story,"  said  the  Rabbit. 

"I'll  promise,"   said  the  Bear.    "Nobody 

85 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

shall  bother  you  while  you  are  here.  You  know 
that,  don't  you,  Brother  Rabbit  ?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  objected  the  Rabbit.  "And 
that 's  just  why  I  seldom  wink.  I  daren't." 
He  came  out  to  the  stone  and  hopped  upon  it. 
"I  wouldn't  believe  anybody  any  time,"  he 
began.  "Most  everybody  here  eats  meat,  and 
everybody  that  eats  meat  is  after  me  night  and 
day.  I  get  very  little  sleep  and  I  don't  even 
dare  to  wink  very  often,  although  sometimes  I 
do  wink.  But  OW-man  told  me  always  to  keep 
my  eyes  open,  and  I  have  to  do  it  in  order  to 
stay  alive.  He  made  more  enemies  for  me  than 
for  any  other  person  here.  Why,  some  of  my 
worst  enemies  fly  in  the  air,  and  every  bush  is 
apt  to  be  a  hiding-place  for  an  enemy  of  mine. 
Talk  about  winking !  Why,  I  wouldn't  dare  to 
close  my  eyes  that  long,  very  often. 

"But  my  tail  —  well,  that's  another  story. 
I  know  that  it  is  funny,  even  funnier  than  the 
Bear's  tail,  or  the  Lynx's  tail,  or  any  other  per- 
son's tail,  for  that  matter.  It  wasn't  always 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

as  it  is  to-night,  by  any  means.  OW-man  and 
the  Otter-person  are  to  blame  for  - 

Suddenly  the  Rabbit  jumped  down  from  the 
rock  and  bounded  away  into  the  shadows. 

"Here,  come  back!"  called  the  Bear. 

"Yes,  and  be  killed  by  the  Lynx-person.  I 
saw  him  do  that,"  said  the  Rabbit  from  behind 
a  bush. 

"Do  what?"  asked  the  Bear. 

"Oh,  I  only  changed  my  position,"  said  the 
Lynx.  "My  paw  was  asleep,  and  I  moved  it. 
That 's  all." 

"Come  back,  Brother  Rabbit,"  coaxed  the 
Bear.  "The  Lynx  won't  harm  you.  I  give 
you  my  word." 

So  the  little  coward  came  back  to  the  rock. 
His  sides  were  panting  and  his  nose  was  work- 
ing queerly.  One  would  have  thought  that  he 
was  chewing,  but  he  wasn't. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  began  the  Rabbit  a 
second  time,  "the  Otter-person  and  Old-man 
are  to  blame  for  my  funny  tail.  I  was  crossing 

87 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

a  high  mountain  one  day  in  the  early  spring- 
time, and  right  on  the  top  of  that  mountain  I 
saw  two  people  acting  queerly.  I  went  away 
around  them  so  the  wind  would  not  tell  them  I 
was  near,  and  hopped  close  enough  to  see  who 
they  were. 

"The  persons  were  OW-man  and  the  Otter, 
and  the  Otter  was  teaching  OW-man  to  slide 
down-hill.  First  the  Otter-person  would  run 
along  on  the  crust  of  the  snow,  for  it  was  very 
deep  there  in  the  mountains.  Then  he  would 
flop  down  and  slide  like  a  streak  for  a  long  way. 
Then  he  would  climb  back  to  OW-man  and  they 
would  both  laugh. 

"'  Try  it/  said  the  Otter. 

"'I  'm  afraid  the  snow  would  rub  my  skin 
off/  objected  Old-man. 

"'It  doesn't  hurt  mine/  said  the  Otter. 

"'I  know  that,  of  course;  I  made  you  that 
way.  I  was  good  to  you/ 

"'Try  it.  You  '11  like  it.  It 's  great  fun/  I 
heard  the  Otter  say. 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"There  were  some  fir-trees  not  far  away,  and 
OW-man  went  among  them  and  took  the  bark 
from  one  that  was  dead.  He  carried  the  bark 
to  where  the  Otter  had  started  to  slide  and  sat 
down  upon  it.  'Here  I  go!'  he  cried.  'I  've 
taken  the  skin  from  a  dead  fir-tree  to  save  my 
own.  Ha,  ha,  ha!' 

" '  Go  on,'  laughed  the  Otter-person.  '  You  '11 
like  it.9 

"The  Otter  ran  and  flopped  down  on  the 
slide.  Away  he  went  like  a  streak.  OW-man, 
digging  his  heels  into  the  crusted  snow,  edged 
the  bark  close  to  the  slide  until  it  balanced  on 
the  very  brink. 

"'Come  on,  you'll  like  it!'  called  the  Otter 
once  more;  and  Old-man  went  over  the  brink. 

"I  ran  out  to  the  edge  myself.  OW-man's 
hair  was  flying  in  the  wind.  The  fir  bark  made 
a  great  noise  on  the  snow  as  it  sped  down  the 
mountain,  and  the  Otter  screamed  in  delight. 
He  could  see  Old-man's  face,  but  I  couldn't.  It 
must  have  been  funny  to  look  at. 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"There  was  a  gulch  at  the  bottom  of  the 
slide,  and  that  stopped  Old-man  very  suddenly 
-so  suddenly  that  the  bark  flew  into  a  thou- 
sand pieces,  and  OW-man's  head  was  driven 
through  the  crust  on  the  snow.  His  legs  were 
squirming  about  in  the  air,  and  the  Otter  was 
rolling  over  and  over,  nearly  dead  from  laugh- 
ing. I  laughed,  too,  and  Old-man  heard  me 
and  sat  up. 

"'Come  on,  you  '11  like  it/  he  called. 

"That  was  what  the  Otter  had  said;  but  I 
said:  'No,  I  'm  afraid/ 

"'Come  on,  you  '11  like  it/  they  both  called, 
and  I  sat  down  at  the  brink  of  the  slide. 

"I  didn't  intend  to  go  down  that  hill  at  all. 
My  tail  was  long  and  bushy  like  the  Squirrel- 
people's,  and  it  was  curled  up  over  my  back. 
The  Otter  was  talking  to  me,  and  the  wind  was 
blowing  his  words  away.  I  was  trying  to  hear 
what  he  said  when  somebody  pushed  me  from 
behind.  I  never  knew  who  did  it." 

The  Porcupine  laughed.    The  Rabbit  looked 

90 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

at  him.  He  was  sitting  with  his  back  against  a 
pine-tree.  "  Was  it  you  ?  "  demanded  the  Rabbit. 

"No,"  said  the  Porcupine.  "It  wasn't  I  that 
pushed  you.  It  was  my  grandfather." 

"It  was,  hey?"  said  the  Rabbit.  "Well,  I 
certainly  slid  down  that  mountain.  The  gulch 
below  seemed  to  be  flying  right  up  at  me,  I  was 
going  so  fast.  I  landed  in  a  pile.  But  I  got  up 
running,  for  I  was  frightened  and  angry.  The 
snow  had  worn  my  long  tail  off  and  had  flat- 
tened out  the  stump,  besides.  When  the  hair 
grew  back  on  the  stump,  it  was  white  —  the 
same  color  as  the  snow  on  that  mountain.  I 
sit  on  my  tail  to  hide  it,  ever  since. 

"When  I  move  about  my  tail  shows  plainly 
and  helps  my  enemies  find  me.  There  are  two 
reasons  why  I  sit  on  my  tail  when  I  stop  any 
place.  One  is  to  hide  it  from  my  enemies;  the 
other  is  because  I  'm  ashamed  of  it.  That 's 
the  tale  of  my  tail.  I  have  finished." 


91 


CHAPTER  XII 

"Tj^VERYBODY  laughed,  and  the  Bear 
•"  thanked  the  Rabbit  and  called  upon  the 
Sage  Hen  to  tell  why  she  had  no  gizzard,  like 
the  others  of  her  kind. 

"Well,"  said  the  Sage  Hen,  "it's  inside  in- 
formation, but  I  '11  out  with  it.  You  all  know 
that  when  Old-man  made  the  animals  and  birds 
he  came  out  of  the  South  and  travelled  toward 
the  North  as  he  worked.  The  Big-horn  was 
one  of  the  last  people  he  made,  but  not  the  very 
last.  I  think  that  was  the  White  Bear,  who 
lives  where  there  is  always  ice.  I  have  never 
seen  the  White  Bear  myself,  but  the  North 
Wind  has  told  me  stories  of  him  and  his  people. 
Old-man  couldn't  have  gone  much  farther 
toward  the  north  than  where  the  White  Bear 
lives,  or  he  might  have  frozen  to  death  at  his 
work.  Nothing  lives  there  but  the  White  Bear 
and  the  North  Wind.  Sometimes  the  North 

92 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Wind  leaves  the  ice  and  comes  to  the  plains. 
Then  the  White  Bear  is  alone. 

"I  am  the  only  bird  that  has  a  stomach. 
The  rest  have  to  carry  little  stones  about  in 
their  gizzards  to  grind  up  the  food  they  eat.  I 
am  a  pretty  big  bird,  and  I  live  on  the  plains 
where  the  sun  is  hot  in  summer  and  where  the 
winds  are  cold  in  winter.  I  'd  have  to  carry  a 
lot  of  rock  about  with  me  in  order  to  grind  up 
the  food  I  eat,  and  I  'm  glad  I  do  not  have  to 
carry  such  a  load.  But  OW-man  made  a  mis- 
take, or  I  would  have  had  to. 

"It  was  hot  weather  when  he  made  me  and 
the  Prairie  Chicken  and  the  Blue  Grouse  and  a 
lot  of  other  people.  He  had  hard  work  to  find 
stones  of  the  proper  size  for  the  gizzards  of  each 
of  the  birds  he  made  that  day,  and  as  fast  as 
he  found  them  he  piled  them  up  in  little  heaps 
on  a  flat  rock  on  the  plains.  The  pile  he  saved 
for  me  was  larger  than  any  of  the  others,  of 
course,  and  the  stones  were  of  larger  size.  I 
remember  that  they  were  yellow  in  color,  too. 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

He  had  picked  them  up  in  a  dry  coulee  not  far 
away,  and  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  them  at  all. 
I  was  the  last  bird  he  made  that  day,  and  when 
he  had  finished  painting  my  breast  —  I  think  I 
have  a  beautiful  breast  —  he  said:  'Here,  now, 
swallow  these  little  stones.  They  will  go  into  a 
sack  inside  you.  They  will  grind  up  the  things 
you  eat.  Once  a  month  you  must  find  more 
stones  like  these  and  swallow  a  few,  because 
these  will  grow  round  and  lose  their  sharp  edges.' 

"Then  he  told  me  where  to  find  the  stones 
and  what  to  eat  when  I  could  find  it.  'Now 
go/  he  said.  'And  stay  out  of  the  timber- 
lands.  Stay  where  the  Antelope  stays,  and 
where  you  can  see  a  long  way.  I  have  made 
you  hard  to  see  when  you  stand  still  on  the 
ground.  Good-by.'  And  he  left  me. 

"  I  ate  what  OW-man  had  told  me  to  eat,  but 
the  stones  he  had  made  me  swallow  did  no  good 
at  all.  I  swallowed  a  few  more,  but  they 
didn't  help  me.  The  next  day  it  rained,  and  I 
thought  I  'd  try  a  few  more  stones  in  my  giz- 

94 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

zard.  I  went  to  that  coulee.  The  yellow 
stones  were  not  there.  The  rain  had  melted 
them;  and  Old-man  was  too  far  away  to  help 
me. 

'"I  didn't  eat  any  more  stones.  I  knew  that 
Old-man  had  made  a  mistake,  so  I  went  with- 
out stones  in  my  gizzard,  and  kept  eating  the 
other  things  he  had  told  me  to  eat.  I  lived  and 
grew  fat.  My  gizzard  turned  into  a  stomach 
like  that  of  the  Bear  or  any  other  person. 
That 's  the  whole  story.  It  was  all  a  mistake, 
but  I  'm  glad  it  was  made.  I  don't  have  to 
carry  a  gizzard  full  of  stones  about  with  me  in 
hot  weather." 

"Now,"  said  the  Bear,  "we  know  how  that 
strange  thing  came  to  be.  I  have  wondered 
about  it,  and  we  thank  you  very  much.  Be 
seated,  and  I  shall  then  ask  the  Woodpecker  to 
tell  us  how  he  can  pound  on  a  dead  tree  with- 
out hurting  his  face." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

npHE  Sage  Hen  found  her  place  among  the 
-*-    Bird-people  who  live  on  the  ground,  and 
the  Woodpecker  walked  out  and  hopped  on 
the  rock  by  the  fire. 

"My  face  is  pretty  hard,"  he  said.  "Ours  is 
a  large  family.  We  all  have  hard  faces  and 
pound  upon  the  trees  with  our  bills.  We  make 
our  living  that  way,  but  sometimes  we  do  it 
for  fun.  While  I  am  here,  I  might  as  well 
speak  for  other  members  of  our  family.  There 's 
the  Yellowhammer,  for  instance.  He  does  much 
the  same  things  that  I  do.  You  have  often 
wondered  how  he  came  by  that  flashing  color 
he  shows  when  he  flies.  I  '11  tell  you.  That 's 
sunlight.  He's  always  out  early  and  on  the 
top  of  some  dead  tree,  where  the  first  rays  of 
the  sun  —  the  rays  that  are  golden  —  fall  upon 
him.  There 's  where  he  got  that  color.  When 

96 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

he  flies  he  flickers  along.    That 's  to  show  off 
his  sunlight  wings.    I  like  that  person  myself. 

"They  say  that  I  am  a  gossip  and  a  tale- 
bearer. Well,  maybe  I  am.  Anyhow,  I  am 
going  to  talk  about  somebody  now.  He 's  here, 
so  it  won't  be  so  bad  as  saying  things  about  one 
who  is  not  present.  The  Pine-squirrel-person  is 
not  so  decent  as  some  of  you  believe  him  to  be. 
He  does  some  things  that  I  do  not  believe  Old- 
man  told  him  to  do.  Almost  all  the  Bird-people 
could  tell  things  on  him,  but  they  're  afraid  to. 
We  of  the  Woodpecker  family  are  not  afraid, 
because  we  can  take  care  of  ourselves.  That 
Squirrel-person  sucks  eggs  and  even  kills  the 
very  young  birds  sometimes.  He  can't  get  into 
our  nests  if  we  are  at  home,  because  we  would 
peck  his  eyes  out,  but  it 's  different  with  the 
other  birds.  He  began  to  do  these  things  long 
ago,  but  it  never  got  out  till  now.  And  now 
you  know  why  my  family  build  their  nests  in 
holes  in  the  trees  —  holes  that  we  make  for  our- 
selves. He 's  a  mean  person,  that  Pine-squirrel. 

97 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

But  you  wanted  to  know  about  my  hard  bill. 
I  '11  tell  you. 

"One  day  Old-man  was  fishing.  He  had  a 
bone  hook  and  a  hair-line,  but  no  bait.  He  was 
turning  over  the  stones  near  the  river,  looking 
for  a  worm  with  which  to  bait  his  hook,  when  I 
lit  in  a  dead  tree  near  by.  I  was  looking  for 
worms  and  bugs  myself. 

"'Say,  Woodpecker-person/  called  Old-man. 
'I  want  a  worm/ 

"'So  do  I,'  I  told  him. 

"'Don't  you  be  saucy  to  the  man  who  made 
you,'  he  snapped. 

" '  Well,  I  didn't  lie.  I  do  want  a  worm,'  I  said. 
'I  don't  see  anything  very  saucy  about  that.' 

"'That  tree  is  full  of  worms  and  bugs,'  he 
told  me. 

"'I  know  it,'  I  said.  'I  can  hear  them  in- 
side, but  I  can't  get  them.  The  wood  is  too 
hard.' 

"  'Well,  I  want  a  big,  fat  worm  to  put  on  this 
fish-hook.  Come  down  here.' 

98 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  came  down,  and  Old-man  picked  me  up 
and  started  for  the  mountains. 

"'Where  are  we  going?*  I  asked  him. 

"'Never  mind/  he  said.  'I  'm  going  to  fix 
you  so  you  can  dig  out  the  worms  and  bugs  that 
live  in  the  trees/ 

"He  began  to  climb  so  high  that  the  weather 
was  growing  cool,  and  I  told  him  so,  but  he 
kept  going  on.  When  he  struck  the  snow  I 
objected,  but  he  said:  'Keep  quiet.  I  know 
what  is  best  for  you/ 

"I  had  never  seen  mountains  so  high  before. 
When  we  were  above  timber-line  and  the  bleak 
peaks  of  the  mountains  were  all  about  us,  I  shiv- 
ered. The  snow  was  as  deep  as  the  pine-trees 
are  tall,  and  still  Old-man  kept  on.  The  wind 
was  out  of  the  north,  and  I  pitied  the  White 
Bear  who  has  to  live  with  the  North  Wind; 
but  Old-man  wouldn't  turn  back.  His  breath 
was  white  in  the  winter,  which  stays  in  the 
clouds  that  hide  the  high  mountain  tops.  Booo ! 
I  was  nearly  dead  with  cold  when  Old-man 

99 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

stopped.  My  head  was  in  his  hair,  for  I  had 
sat  on  his  shoulder  all  the  way. 

"'Here  we  are/  he  said,  and  I  looked  out. 

"'Boo-oo!'  I  shivered.  He  was  standing  on 
a  glacier.  The  blue  ice  was  all  about  us,  with 
fine,  powdery  snow  dancing  and  whishing  over 
it  in  the  North  Wind.  As  far  as  I  could  see 
there  was  ice  and  snow,  and  that's  the  only 
time  I  ever  saw  the  land  where  winter  was  born. 
The  sun  goes  around  that  place,  I  am  sure. 

"'Now/  said  OW-man,  'what  I  am  going  to 
do  will  hurt  you  for  a  minute,  but  you  will 
have  to  stand  it/  And  he  stuck  my  bill  in  a 
crack  in  the  ice  and  held  me  tight. 

"'Oh!' I  cried.    'I  '11  die/ 

"'No,  you  won't.  Ha,  ha,  ha!'  he  laughed. 
'I  '11  make  your  bill  so  hard  that  you  can  pick 
a  hole  through  any  tree  that  grows.  Ha,  ha, 
ha!  I  have  to  have  a  big,  fat  worm  to  bait 
my  fish-hook/ 

"I  don't  know  how  long  he  held  me  there. 
I  lost  my  senses.  The  last  I  remember  of  that 

100 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

glacier  was  when  I  dreamed  that  my  head  was 
afire.  Next  I  felt  my  feet  upon  the  limb  of 
a  tree.  I  opened  my  eyes.  The  light  hurt 
them  at  first,  but  at  last  I  kept  them  open. 
I  saw  that  I  was  back  in  the  tree  by  the  river, 
and  that  Old-man  was  standing  near  with  his 
fish-pole  in  his  hands.  I  was  dizzy,  and  nearly 
fell  off  the  limb. 

"'Ha,  ha,  ha!  Ha,  ha,  ha!'  Old-man  was 
laughing.  'Dig  out  a  big,  fat  worm  with  your 
new  bill/  he  said,  and  I  did. 

"I  gave  him  the  worm,  and  then  he  said  to 
me:  'All  your  family  shall  have  hard  bills  and 
faces  from  now  on/ 

"And  that  came  true,  though  it  had  hurt 
terribly.  That 's  all." 


101 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"T  SUPPOSE  that  did  hurt,  but  you  can 
•••  make  a  living  more  easily  now,"  said  the 
Bear,  as  the  Woodpecker-person  flew  into  a 
tree  over  the  head  of  the  Wolf.  "Not  all  of 
the  people  here  see  the  Buffalo  upon  the 
plains,  but  those  who  do  see  him  there  have 
wondered  at  his  great  head  and  shoulders. 
Why  are  you  so  high  in  front  and  so  low  be- 
hind, Brother  Buffalo?  Be  careful,  do  not 
step  upon  the  Mouse-person  when  you  come 
forward.  He  is  so  small  that  you  might  not 
see  him." 

The  Buffalo  walked  carefully  and  did  not  dis- 
turb any  of  the  small  people  at  the  Council. 
He  came  to  the  rock  and  bowed  to  the  Bear. 
The  Bear  said:  "We'll  be  glad  to  hear  what 
you  have  to  say,  and  perhaps  you  will  tell  us 

102 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

why  your  tongue  is  black,  too.  I  Ve  noticed 
it  so  many  times  when  you  people  are  running. 
You  stick  out  your  tongues  and  they  are  black. 
I  don't  understand  that." 

The  Buffalo's  voice  was  deep  and  hoarse 
when  he  began.  "OW-man  did  these  things  for 
us,  but  the  black  tongue  is  a  secret.  If  I  tell  it, 
there  are  people  here  who  might  take  advan- 
tage of  it,  I  suppose,  but  we  are  all  telling  the 
truth,  and  I  shall  not  lie.  When  OW-man  made 
me  my  tongue  was  red  —  the  same  as  the 
tongues  of  other  people.  I  wasn't  high  in  front, 
either;  but  he  had  to  improve  me  or  I  could 
not  have  lived,  as  you  shall  see. 

"When  Old-man  made  the  first  Buffalo,  he 
put  them  on  the  plains  and  told  them  to  stay 
there,  and  they  did.  It  was  summer,  and  they 
got  fat  and  felt  fine;  but  at  last  the  winter 
came.  They  had  a  hard  time  of  it  then.  The 
North  Wind  left  the  land  of  the  White  Bear 
and  made  war  upon  them,  and  they  died.  Their 
bodies  dotted  the  plains  and  made  white  hum- 

103 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

mocks  under  the  snow  when  the  North  Wind 
had  finished  fighting  my  people. 

"Then  Old-man  came  and  saw  what  the 
North  Wind  had  done.  He  was  angry.  'Hey, 
you  North  Wind/  he  called.  'Come  to  me!' 
And  the  North  Wind  came.  'What  have  you 
been  doing  to  these  Buffalo?'  he  asked. 

"'I  have  made  war  upon  them  and  have 
killed  them  with  the  strong  breath  that  you 
gave  me/  replied  the  Wind. 

'"Stop  it/  said  Old-man.  ' I  shall  make  some 
more,  but  you  must  not  kill  them/ 

"'Then  you  will  have  to  make  me  different/ 
said  the  North  Wind.  'I  do  as  you  told  me  to 
do.  I  live  where  you  said  I  must  live.  I  come 
here  with  the  Winter  once  in  a  while.  If  you 
want  me  to  stay  away  always,  I  am  willing. 
I  like  the  White  Bear  and  our  country  well 
enough.  You  said  there  would  be  times  when 
I  would  be  needed  here,  so  I  come  when  I  feel 
like  coming.  You  '11  have  to  make  me  over,  I 
guess/ 

104 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 


/  said  Old-man,  'I  made  you  as  I  want 
you.  I  made  a  mistake  when  I  made  these 
Buffalo-people.  Go  back  to  the  land  of  the 
White  Bear.  I  don't  like  to  have  you  near  me/ 

'The  North  Wind  went  away,  and  then  Old- 
man  thought  a  long  time.  At  last  he  made  me 
as  you  see  me  —  high  in  front  and  low  behind. 
He  put  heavy  hair  on  my  robe  and  hid  my  face 
in  it.  'There/  he  said,  'when  the  North  Wind 
comes  again  to  make  war,  you  turn  and  face 
him.  Never  let  him  get  behind  you.  If  his 
war  lasts  long,  you  may  even  kneel  down,  fac- 
ing him.  He  cannot  kill  you.  Is  there  any- 
thing else  you  need  to  make  you  happy?' 

"'Yes/  I  said.  'I  have  to  run  a  good  deal. 
The  Wolf-people  chase  my  children  if  they 
stray  from  their  mother's  side.  Great  packs  of 
the  Wolf-people  follow  me  wherever  I  go.  One 
or  two  of  the  Wolf-people  would  be  easy  for  me 
to  handle,  but  when  they  come  at  me  in  hun- 
dreds I  cannot  beat  them  off  always.  Some- 
times they  chase  me  until  I  am  nearly  dead.  I 

105 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

dare  not  stick  out  my  tongue  that  I  may  breathe 
easier,  lest  they  know  that  my  strength  is  fail- 
ing. I  wish  you  'd  fix  it  so  I  can  get  more 
breath  without  showing  my  tongue/ 

"Old-man  thought  a  long  time.  'I  don't  see 
how  I  can  do  that/  he  said;  'but  I  '11  tell  you 
what  I  can  do.  I  '11  make  your  tongue  black. 
Anybody's  tongue  is  black  when  he  is  being 
chased  to  death,  but  from  now  on  yours  shall 
be  black  all  the  time.  Whenever  you  start 
running,  stick  out  your  tongue.  The  Wolf- 
people  will  see  that  it  is  black,  but  they  will 
know  that  you  are  not  tired.  It  will  always  be 
black,  and  they  can  never  tell  when  you  are 
nearly  dead  from  running/ 

"I  always  do  stick  out  my  tongue  when  I 
run.  At  first  the  Wolf-people  thought  I  was 
going  to  die,  but  I  fooled  them  with  my  black 
tongue.  I  run  straight  ahead  when  once  I 
start.  I  run  far.  Old-man  told  me  to  do  these 
things  and  I  do  them.  I  hope  the  Wolf-person 
will  not  take  advantage  of  what  I  have  said." 

106 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  promise  that  I  will  not,"  said  the  Wolf. 
"I  can  get  along  with  what  I  have  always 
known  about  you.  Your  fire  is  getting  low, 
Brother  Bear." 


107 


CHAPTER  XV 

friend,  the  Ruffed  Grouse,  is  here/' 
said  the  Bear,  bowing  low  to  the  Par- 
tridge. "I  have  often  heard  him  drumming, 
and  sometimes  I  have  seen  him  standing  upon 
a  log  when  he  was  making  that  booming  sound; 
but  I  don't  know  how  he  does  it.  His  move- 
ments are  too  quick  for  my  eyes." 

"Yes,  tell  us,"  called  the  Red  Fox.  "I  Ve 
seen  you  drum  a  thousand  times,  but  I  don't 
know  how  you  do  it." 

"There  must  be  a  story  connected  with  the 
drumming,"  continued  the  Bear,  "and  the  peo- 
ple would  like  to  hear  it.  Will  you  not  tell  us 
the  story,  Brother  Ruffed  Grouse?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Ruffed  Grouse,  "I  '11  tell  the 
story.  But  I  don't  want  to  stand  on  that  rock. 
It 's  too  close  to  the  fire." 

"Well,  fly  up  into  that  fir-tree  and  speak  as 
loud  as  you  can,"  suggested  the  Bear. 

108 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

The  Ruffed  Grouse  flew  into  the  tree  with  a 
whir,  and  settled  upon  a  limb  of  the  fir-tree. 
It  was  a  slender  limb,  and  it  swayed  and  teetered 
under  his  weight. 

"Say,"  he  began,  "I  can  tell  you  my  story 
from  here,  but  I  can't  show  you  how  I  drum. 
If  you  '11  go  to  that  log  over  yonder  I  '11  drum." 

"Tell  your  story  and  then  we  '11  go  to  the 
log/'  said  the  Bear. 

"Well,  one  time  I  was  living  near  a  river," 
began  the  Ruffed  Grouse.  "There  were  many 
willows  along  the  stream,  and  the  great  cotton- 
wood-trees  that  had  grown  old  and  died  were 
upon  the  ground  in  many  places.  It  was  in 
the  fall.  The  leaves  were  all  yellow  against 
the  blue  sky.  I  was  fat  and  my  wife  was  fat. 
Our  children  had  grown  up  and  could  care  for 
themselves.  We  were  happy.  The  days  were 
warm  and  the  nights  cool  under  a  sky  of 
stars. 

"One  night  my  wife  had  gone  to  roost  in  a 
spruce-tree.  The  moon  was  full  as  it  is  to-night, 

109 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

only  it  was  clearer  because  of  the  season.  I 
was  thinking  how  good  it  was  to  be  alive  in 
this  world,  and  wishing  I  could  tell  of  my  joy 
in  life  when  a  dark  shadow  fell  upon  me.  I 
ran  down  the  log.  I  am  always  watching  for 
enemies. 

"'Wait!  Wait!  I  want  to  talk  to  you/ 
called  a  voice.  It  was  OW-man  that  spoke. 
I  saw  him  plainly  in  the  moonlight.  I  stopped. 
'Come  here/  he  called,  as  he  sat  down  on  the 
log. 

"I  walked  back  to  where  he  sat  and  he  said: 
'Don't  you  feel  happy?' 

"'Yes,  I  do/  I  told  him. 

"  'You  do  not  make  it  known/  he  grumbled. 
'When  the  days  are  fine,  you  do  not  show  your 
pleasure  in  them.  When  the  seasons  suit  you, 
you  never  speak.  When  there  is  to  be  a  change 
in  the  weather  that  will  help  you  live,  you  re- 
main silent,  and  I've  wondered  why/ 

" '  I  have  been  sitting  here  wishing  that  I 
had  the  voice  of  the  Owl/  I  said.  'If  I  could 

no 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

make  my  happiness  known  to  all  the  forest- 
people  I  would  do  it,  but  I  have  no  way.  You 
gave  me  none/ 

'"  Didn't  I  ?'  he  asked. 

"  'No,  you  didn't/  I  told  him.  'I  can't  sing. 
All  I  can  do  is  make  a  few  noises  with  my  voice. 
They  are  not  pleasant  sounds,  nor  would  they 
be  heard  far/ 

"'You  live  where  there  are  logs/  he  said, 
after  he  had  been  silent  a  while.  'I  '11  tell  you 
what  to  do  when  you  are  happy.  Straighten 
up!' 

"I  did. 

"  'Now  throw  the  tops  of  your  wings  back- 
ward—  farther!  Farther!'  he  insisted  as  I 
forced  them  back.  'There/  he  said.  'Now 
tip  up  the  ends  —  the  tips,  in  front  of  you/ 

"I  did  it. 

"  'Stand  as  you  are  and  strike  the  tips  of 
your  wings  together  with  an  inward  and  up- 
ward stroke/ 

"I  tried  it.    It  made  a  noise  like  thunder. 

in 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"'One,  two,  three,  four  —  whirrrrrrrrF  cried 
OW-man.  'Do  it  that  way/ 

"And  I  did.  I  've  been  doing  it  ever  since 
when  I  am  happy  or  when  a  change  is  coming 
in  the  weather  —  a  change  that  will  suit  me 
better.  I  drum  at  any  season  in  the  year,  when 
I  am  happy.  .  .  .  And  now  I  '11  show  you 
how  I  do  it." 

Whirr-rr!  The  Ruffed  Grouse  flew  to  the 
log.  All  the  people  gathered  around.  "I  'm 
only  going  to  do  it  once,  so  all  of  you  look 
sharp/'  he  said,  as  he  straightened  his  body 
until  his  tail  touched  the  log.  The  tops  of  his 
wings  were  tipped  backward  so  far  that  the 
Ruffed  Grouse  resembled  an  old  man  removing 
his  coat.  Then  he  bent  his  wings  so  that  their 
tips  nearly  met  in  front  of  his  body.  It  was  a 
queer  position  and  he  looked  funny.  "Now 
watch!"  he  said. 

Boom  —  boom  —  boom  —  brrrrrrr !  came  the 
sound  from  the  wings  as  the  Ruffed  Grouse 
brought  their  tips  together  in  front  of  him  with 

112 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

an  inward,  upward  movement,  so  quickly  exe- 
cuted that  the  eyes  of  the  people  there  could 
not  follow  it.  Boom  —  boom  —  boom !  Faster 
and  faster  the  wings  struck  together  until  there 
was  a  great  whirring  Boom. 

"There!  That's  all  there  is  to  my  story." 
Whirr-rr !  and  he  was  gone. 

The  rest  of  the  people  hurried  back  to  the 
fire,  and  the  Bear  piled  wood  upon  it,  for  the 
darkness  had  crept  over  the  Council  Ground. 
The  eyes  of  the  Wolf-person  glowed  green  as 
he  said:  " I  wonder  what  frightened  that  Ruffed 
Grouse."  The  Mountain  Lion  looked  at  the 
Deer  and  scared  him  with  his  glance.  The 
Deer  jumped  a  log  to  be  farther  away  from  his 
enemies.  In  the  darkness  an  uneven  row  of 
fiery  green  eyes  looked  at  the  Bear  from  the 
deep  shadows  as  he  heaped  the  last  of  the  dry 
wood  upon  the  dead  fire. 

"Coog  —  coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay!"  hooted 
the  Owl. 

"Wait,  every  one!"  cried  the  Bear;   for  at 

113 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  sound  of  the  Owl's  voice  there  was  a  stir 
among  the  people.  They  knew  what  the  words 
meant,  and  they  all  believed  in  ghosts. 

"Wait!  Wait!"  begged  the  Bear.  But 
when  the  fire  blazed  up  there  wasn't  a  single 
person  in  sight.  They  had  run  away. 

"Well,  that's  a  fine  way  to  do,"  said  the 
Weasel  who  had  helped  to  rebuild  the  fire  with 
his  birch  bark.  "That 's  a  fine  way  to  do." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  agreed  the  Bear.  "I  wonder 
who  started  it." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Weasel,  "but  I  'm 
pretty  hungry.  You  can  put  out  this  fire  alone, 
I  guess.  Oh,  mercy!  Look  there!"  And  he 
scampered  away  into  the  forest.  He  was  gone 
like  a  shadow. 

Wondering,  the  Bear  looked  about.  There 
was  no  one  in  sight.  The  forest  was  still.  What 
could  have  scared  the  people?  Who  had  fright- 
ened the^Weasel? 

The  fire  began  to  crackle,  and  the  blaze  grew 
bright  in  the  darkness.  The  firelight  made  the 

114 


"  Wait !     Wait ! "  begged  the  Bear 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

shadows  outside  its  circle  deeper,  for  the  full 
moon  had  gone  down  behind  the  tops  of  the 
great  trees. 

"O,  dear,"  sighed  the  Bear,  as  he  sat  down 
by  the  fire  alone.  "O,  dear,  somebody  broke 
up  the  Council  when  I  let  the  fire  burn  low. 
And  there  were  a  lot  of  things  I  wanted  to  learn. 
They  were  talking  fine,  too.  I  wonder  if  I  shall 
ever  be  able  to  get  those  people  together  again/' 
he  added  aloud. 

"No,  you  shall  not!" 

The  Bear  jumped  up  as  though  the  Porcupine 
had  struck  him  with  his  tail  of  quills.  The 
voice  was  in  his  ear.  "No,  you  shall  not,"  said 
the  thin  voice  again;  and  Old-man  was  stand- 
ing beside  him. 

The  firelight  fell  upon  his  wrinkled  face,  and 
the  long  white  hair  that  hung  over  his  naked 
shoulders.  "No,  you  shall  not,"  he  piped. 
"I  scared  the  people  away.  I  heard  the  Grouse- 
person  drumming  and  came  to  see  what  was 
going  on  here.  I  scared  them  away  because 

115 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

they  were  talking  too  much.  I  gave  each  one 
of  you  people  a  secret  when  I  made  you.  If  I 
had  wanted  each  to  know  all  about  the  other, 
I  would  not  have  given  them  their  secrets.  Now 
go  away  from  this  fire." 

The  Bear  hung  his  head  and  turned  away 
into  the  shadows.  "You  '11  never  build  another 
fire!"  called  OW-man,  as  the  Bear  climbed  over 
a  fallen  tree.  "After  this  and  forever  you  '11 
be  afraid  of  fire." 

And  he  is. 


116 


BOOK  II 

NEAR  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 
WHEN  THE  MOON  IS  DARK 


CHAPTER   I 

day,  long  after  the  Council  at  the  Big 
Lake  had  been  broken  up  by  0/rf-man, 
the  Weasel  met  the  Bear  in  the  forest.  You 
remember  that  the  Weasel  left  the  Council 
Ground  before  the  Bear  was  driven  away  by 
Old-man;  so  he  knew  nothing  of  what  happened 
later.  "Good  morning,"  greeted  the  Weasel. 

"Good  morning,"  returned  the  Bear,  as  he 
stopped  to  turn  over  a  rotten  log  in  search  of 
mice  or  ants. 

"I  haven't  seen  you  since  the  Council  at  the 
Big  Lake,"  said  the  Weasel.  "I  Ve  been  laugh- 
ing ever  since  at  that  story  the  Skunk-person 
told  us.  I  bet  it 's  true  — every  word." 

"Of  course  it's  true,"  mumbled  the  Bear, 
with  his  nose  in  the  dirt.  "Of  course  it 's  true. 
Why  would  he  lie?  That  smell  the  Skunk- 
person  makes  could  come  from  no  other  source 
than  the  one  he  named.  You  imagine  every  one 
has  a  forked  tongue  and  so  speaks  falsely." 

119 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"  Oh,  no,  I  don't,"  said  the  Weasel.  "  What 's 
the  matter  with  you  this  morning,  anyhow? 
You  look  cross  and  act  cross.  .  .  .  Pshaw !  if 
you  don't  want  to  talk  to  me,  I  '11  go  on  about 
my  business." 

"Well,  I  am  cross,"  agreed  the  Bear.  "I 
have  been  cross  ever  since  we  held  the  Council. 
There  was  a  lot  more  I  wanted  to  learn  from  the 
people  who  were  there,  and  now  I  never  shall. 
O  dear !  after  all  my  trouble  getting  the  thing 
started  it  went  wrong  —  all  wrong." 

"What  do  you  suppose  scared  the  Grouse- 
person  and  the  rest?"  asked  the  Weasel,  look- 
ing behind  him  apprehensively. 

"Oh,  I  guess  you  know  well  enough,"  growled 
the  Bear. 

"No,  I  don't  —  honest.  I  thought  I  saw 
something  and  I  was  nervous.  It  frightened 
me  and  I  ran  away." 

"Well,  let 's  not  talk  about  it,"  said  the  Bear. 
"If  you  didn't  see  anything  or  anybody  to  be 
afraid  of,  I  didn't.  Let  it  go  at  that." 

120 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

The  Weasel  looked  at  the  Bear  for  a  moment 
without  winking;  then  he  said:  "I  believe  you 
did  see  something  that  night." 

"Suppose  I  did?"  snarled  the  Bear.  "Sup- 
pose I  did.  What  of  it  ?  The  Council  is  over." 
He  turned  to  walk  away. 

"Wait  a  minute,  brother!"  cried  the  Weasel. 
"Let's  get  up  another  Council  — you  and  I. 
We  can  have  the  fire  in  the  forest." 

"Nope,"  said  the  Bear,  hardly  pausing. 
"Nope,  no  more  fires  for  me.  I  'm  afraid  of 
fires,  and  always  will  be." 

"Well,  that's  funny,"  replied  the  Weasel. 
"Mighty  funny.  You  didn't  use  to  be.  You 
used  to " 

"Yes,  I  used  to  —  used  to  have  a  long  tail, 
but  it 's  short  now  —  so  short  that  everybody 
makes  remarks  about  it,"  growled  the  Bear. 

The  Weasel  thought  for  a  long  time,  and  the 
Bear  went  on  turning  over  logs  and  stones  until 
he  was  out  of  sight. 

"That  person  did  see  something  that  night," 
121 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

mused  the  Weasel.  "I  guess  he  saw  what  7 
saw  only  /  got  away.  My!  I  wonder  if  Old- 
man  and  the  Bear  had  words.  I  bet  they  did. 
Yes,  sir,  I  bet  they  did.  I  '11  catch  up  to  the 
Bear  and  talk  to  him,  but  I  '11  be  careful  what 
I  say.  He  's  so  touchy  about  it." 

He  scampered  away  in  the  direction  the 
Bear  had  taken,  and  caught  up  to  him  in  a 
minute.  "Here  I  am  again !"  he  laughed,  as 
the  Bear  turned  and  saw  him.  "Sit  down  a 
minute,  can't  you?" 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the  Bear,  but 
he  didn't  sit  down. 

"I  have  a  plan,"  said  the  Weasel.  "If  you 
are  afraid  of  fire  I  '11  build  a  fire  myself.  It 
will  be  a  small  one,  of  course,  but  that  kind 
won't  invite  prowlers.  You  needn't  take  any 
hand  in  the  affair,  but  you  can  come  and  sit 
near  the  fire,  if  it 's  a  small  one,  can't  you  ?" 

"No  fires  for  me,"  growled  the  Bear. 

"Listen,  Brother  Bear,"  urged  the  Weasel. 
"I  will  invite  all  the  small  people,  like  the  Fly- 

122 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

ing  Squirrel  and  the  Bats  —  people  we  forgot 
the  other  time.  Besides,  there  were  many  at 
our  other  Council  who  didn't  have  a  chance  to 
tell  their  stories.  You  'd  like  to  hear  them, 
wouldn't  you?" 

The  Bear  sat  down.  "Yes,  of  course  I 
would,"  he  said,  "but  I  'm  scared  to  death  of 
fire.  I-  -" 

"Well,  you  can  sit  in  the  shadows,"  inter- 
rupted the  Weasel.  "You  can  hear  every  word 
that  is  spoken,  and  I  will  take  all  the  blame  of 
calling  the  Council.  OW-man  can't  find  any 
fault  with  you  if  you  just  happen  along  that 
way  and  listen,  can  he?" 

"  Old-man !  Old-man ! "  cried  the  Bear.  "  So 
you  saw  him  before  I  did,  that  night.  That 
was  why  you  ran  away.  Ah,  ha !  Why  didn't 
you  warn  me,  so " 

"Now,  don't  get  angry,  brother,"  pleaded  the 
Weasel.  "I  didn't  know  it  was  Old-man  — 
honest  I  didn't.  I  thought  maybe  it  was  he, 
and  I  was  nervous  with  all  that  was  going  on. 

123 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Now,  listen!  I  will  call  another  Council  my- 
self. I  won't  connect  your  name  with  it  in 
any  way.  It  will  be  held  when  the  moon  is 
dark— not  light  — this  time,  and  it  will  be 
held  up  near  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Come, 
I  will  show  you  just  where  I  shall  build  my  fire. 
You  can  find  a  place  near  by  and  be  sleeping 
there  on  the  night  of  the  Council  —  see  ?  " 

The  Bear  hesitated.  OW-man  frightened  him 
at  the  Big  Lake  and  he  didn't  propose  to  merit 
his  displeasure  a  second  time.  "Oh,  I  guess 
you  'd  better  go  on  about  your  business/'  he 
said.  "Old-man,  will  hear  of  it  and  suspect  me 
right  away." 

"You  won't  come,  then?"  asked  the  Weasel. 

"Nope,"  said  the  Bear.  "Oh,  I  '11  go  and 
see  where  you  will  build  your  fire,  but  I  don't 
want  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  affair." 

"Well,  come  on,  then,  baby.  I  '11  show  you 
the  place,  but  don't  you  go  and  tell  on  me.  If 
you  do  I'll  get  even  with  you,"  declared  the 
Weasel,  as  he  led  the  way  toward  the  moun- 

124 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

tains.  He  didn't  know  where  he  would  build 
his  fire,  because  he  had  not  thought  of  a  Council 
until  he  met  the  Bear,  but  he  kept  going  toward 
the  mountains,  pretending  that  he  knew  just 
where  he  was  going. 

The  Bear  didn't  suspect  that  the  Weasel  was 
only  looking  for  a  suitable  place  for  his  fire,  and 
kept  following  until,  at  last,  the  Weasel  stopped 
at  the  foot  of  a  high  mountain.  There  was  an 
open  spot  in  the  forest  there  and  the  bushes 
were  thick  about  it.  A  creek  came  tumbling 
down  the  mountain  a  little  way  from  the  open 
spot,  and  the  water  turned  at  the  foot  of  the 
steep  hillside,  so  that  the  creek  flowed  along  the 
base  of  the  mountain  for  a  long  way,  before  it 
headed  toward  the  great  river  beyond.  Birch- 
trees  were  plentiful  along  the  creek  and  ferns 
grew  tall  as  the  Bear's  back. 

"This  is  the  spot,"  said  the  Weasel.  "How 
do  you  like  it?" 

"It 's  a  good  place,  I  should  think,"  returned 
the  Bear,  looking  with  interest  at  the  tall  ferns 

125 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

and  thick  bushes;  "but  if  it  suits  you  that 's  all 
that's  necessary.  The  moon  will  be  dark  in 
ten  days,  so  you  '11  have  to  hurry  if  you  have 
many  people  here.  .  .  .  But  that 's  none  of 
my  business.  No  more  fires  for  me." 

"Well,  I  thought  I  'd  show  you  the  place, 
anyhow,"  smiled  the  Weasel.  "And  while  I  'm 
here  I  might  as  well  gather  some  birch  bark 
and  some  sticks  for  the  fire.  Maybe  you  will 
help  me?"  he  continued. 

"No,  sir,"  snapped  the  Bear.  "No  more 
fires  for  me.  I  'm  going  back  to  the  river.  I 
wish  you  luck." 

"Oh,  all  right.  Good-by,"  said  the  Weasel, 
as  he  began  to  gather  birch  bark  and  sticks. 
"Don't  forget  the  place  —  that  is,  if  you  should 
change  your  mind."  And  he  winked  cunningly 
at  a  frog  on  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

But  the  Bear  didn't  answer.  He  started 
down  the  creek,  for  he  knew  where  it  emptied 
into  the  river.  As  he  went  along  he  looked 
again  at  the  tall  ferns  and  the  thick  bushes. 

126 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  O  my!  O  my!  The  big 
clumsy  coward/'  laughed  the  Weasel  when  the 
footsteps  of  the  Bear  had  died  away.  "Ha, 
ha,  ha !  He  thinks  I  believe  that  he  won't  come 
to  my  Council.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  He  '11  be  the  first 
one  here.  He  '11  be  sleeping  in  those  bushes  a 
whole  day  before  I  build  my  fire.  I  know  him. 
He  thinks  he  's  clever;  but  nothing  could  keep 
him  from  listening  to  the  stories  the  people 
will  tell.  I  never  knew  a  person  who  loved 
other  people's  business  half  so  well  as  the  Bear 
does.  Well,  if  he  comes,  let  him  come.  I  '11 
pretend  I  don't  know  he  's  here.  But  I  know 
just  where  he  will  be  —  right  in  that  thicket 
there  where  he  can  see  and  hear  as  well  as 
anybody.  Well,  I  can't  spend  any  more  time 
standing  here.  I  must  gather  wood  and  bark." 

He  worked  until  after  the  sun  had  gone  down 
and  a  goodly  pile  of  fuel  for  the  Council  fire 
satisfied  him.  "There,"  he  said.  "If  we  burn 
that  we  can  all  turn  out  and  gather  some  more. 
I  've  done  more  than  my  share.  I  '11  be  going 

127 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

back,  myself,  now.  I  wonder  where  the  Bear 
is?"  and  he  laughed. 

It  was  after  dark  when  the  Weasel  reached 
the  river,  but  he  began  to  look  for  his  supper 
as  though  it  were  yet  daylight.  He  found  the 
nest  of  a  Ruffed  Grouse  in  some  willows,  and 
after  scaring  the  bird  from  her  eggs  sucked  them. 

"There,"  he  said;  "that  was  pretty  lucky 
and  I  feel  fine.  Maybe  I  can  find  the  Bat  or 
the  Flying  Squirrel.  They  are  both  lovers  of 
the  night,  like  myself.  I  don't  want  to  go  back 
into  the  forest  to-night;  so  I  '11  look  along  the 
river  for  the  Bat,  I  guess." 

Night-hawks  were  flying  over  the  stream, 
swooping  with  strange  growling  sounds  under 
the  sky,  and  the  Weasel  watched  them  zigzag 
from  the  light  into  shadows  while  he  waited 
for  the  Bat  to  come  along.  He  knew  that  the 
Bat-people  like  to  fly  over  the  water  catch- 
ing small  insects  in  the  air;  so  he  found  a 
smooth  stone  still  warm  from  the  sunshine  that 
had  gone  for  the  night,  and  sat  upon  it. 

128 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

A  Moth,  fluttering  awkwardly,  settled  upon 
the  pebbles  near  the  stone  and  then  —  presto ! 
it  was  gone,  and  so  suddenly  that  even  the 
Weasel's  sharp  little  eyes  had  not  seen  it  move. 

"Hump,  that's  queer,"  he  thought.  Then 
a  pebble  rolled  against  another,  making  a  noise 
that  the  Weasel  heard  plainly,  and  a  clumsy 
Toad,  fat  and  warty,  changed  his  position  with 
an  effort;  wabbling  about  for  a  moment,  he 
finally  settled  down  again  among  the  pebbles 
near  the  stone,  with  his  eyes  bulged  out  as 
though  he  were  watching  intently  for  something. 

"Hello,"  said  the  Weasel.  "I  didn't  see 
you  until  you  moved.  You  look  almost  like 
a  stone,  anyhow." 

The  Toad  didn't  turn  his  head,  nor  even 
wink.  "You  say  you  didn't  see  me  until  I 
moved,"  he  said.  "That 's  funny.  I  was  right 
here  when  you  came.  I  heard  you  talking  to 
yourself." 

"You  did?" 

"Yes,  I  did." 

129 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Why  don't  you  laugh,  if  it 's  funny?"  asked 
the  Weasel. 

"I  never  laugh,"  replied  the  Toad.  "I'm 
a  serious-minded  person." 

"I  guess  you  are,  and  the  clumsiest  thing 
alive.  I  don't  see  how  you  make  a  living.  You 
move  so  slowly  that  you  cannot  catch  any- 
thing alive.  That 's  certain." 

"Can't  I?"  asked  the  Toad.  "Didn't  you 
see  me  grab  that  Moth  a  minute  ago?" 

"What?" 

"I  say,  didn't  you' see  me  nab  that  Moth 
that  settled  on  the  stones  here?" 

"Why,  what  a  yarn !"  exclaimed  the  Weasel. 
"You  didn't  even  move  until  after  that  Moth 
was  gone,  and  then  you  made  more  noise  in 
the  pebbles  than  the  Bear  makes  in  the  brush. 
Ha,  ha,  ha !  You  must  think  I  'm  foolish. 
Why,  you  didn't  move.  I  didn't  even  know 
that  you  were  there." 

"No,  /  didn't  move,  but  my  tongue  did. 
Wait  —  sit  still.  Here  comes  another  Moth 

130 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

—  shhh !  Watch  me  grab  him."  But  the  Moth 
turned  and  fluttered  over  their  heads. 

"Pshaw!"  said  the  Toad,  "I  thought  that 
fellow  was  going  to  stop  here." 

"He  was  afraid  of  you,"  laughed  the  Weasel. 
"He  has  seen  you  run,  no  doubt." 

"Well,  there  '11  be  another  along  in  a  minute. 
This  is  a  good  place.  I  often  come  here.  Here 
comes  a  big  one !  Now  watch  me." 

The  Moth  settled  down  not  far  from  the 
Toad,  and  the  Weasel's  eyes  were  bright  as 
he  fixed  them  upon  him.  The  Toad  did  not 
move.  A  minute  slipped  slowly  by,  and  the 
Weasel  did  not  allow  his  eyes  to  move  from  the 
Moth.  But  suddenly  it  was  gone  —  gone  as 
though  it  had  never  been  there  —  and  yet  the 
Toad  had  not  moved. 

"There!  That's  how  I  do  it.  They  say 
that  you  are  pretty  quick,  yourself,  but  can 
you  catch  a  Bottle-Fly  every  time,  right  in 
the  open  with  nothing  behind  which  to  hide. 
Say,  can  you  ? " 

131 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"No,"  admitted  the  Weasel.  "But  I  am  sure 
you  did  not  move,  and  I  don't  think  you  have 
stirred  yet.  I  know  that  the  Moth  isn't  there 
any  more,  of  course;  but  I  didn't  see  him  go 
away,  either.  I  don't  understand  it.  You 
didn't  move,  did  you?" 

"No,  /  didn't  move,  but  my  tongue  did. 
I  'm  extremely  handy  with  my  tongue,"  said 
the  Toad,  soberly 

"I  should  say  you  were  if  you  caught  that 
Moth  with  it.  Let's  see  you  do  it  again.  Here 
comes  another  one !" 

Again  a  Moth  lit  near  to  the  Toad,  and  again 
it  disappeared;  and  that  time  the  Weasel 
thought  he  saw  something  snatch  the  insect, 
but  he  couldn't  be  sure.  Besides  he  thought 
he  heard  the  Toad  smack  his  lips. 

"There,  that's  easy  when  you  know  how," 
said  the  Toad.  "  'You  haven't  moved/  I  sup- 
pose you  '11  say,  but  my  tongue  did.  It 's  a 
pretty  easy  way  to  make  a  living,  isn't  it?  You 
have  noticed  that  I  'm  always  fat,  haven't  you  ?  " 

132 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Yes,  I  have,"  agreed  the  Weasel,  "and  I 
want  you  to  come  to  our  Council,  will  you?" 

"When?" 

"When  the  moon  is  dark." 

"Where?" 

"Up  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Follow 
the  creek  till  you  come  to  the  place  where  it 
comes  off  the  mountainside.  I  '11  be  there." 

"Oh,  that 's  too  far  for  me,"  said  the  Toad. 
"  It  would  take  me  all  summer  to  get  there  and 
back  here  again.  Sit  still;  here  comes  a  Bug 
of  some  kind,  and  I  need  a  change.  I  got  him ! 
It  was  a  Beetle.  I  don't  care  for  Beetles  very 
much,"  he  blinked. 

"You  'd  have  a  good  time  at  that  Council," 
promised  the  Weasel. 

"I  suppose  I  would,  but  it's  too  far,"  said 
the  Toad,  moving  a  little. 

" Start  now,"  urged  the  Weasel.  "  It 's  worth 
your  while.  The  people  will  all  be  there,  and 
there  will  be  story-telling.  You  will  find  a  pile 
of  birch  bark  and  considerable  wood  on  the 

133 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

spot  where  the  Council  is  to  be  held;  so  you  '11 
know  the  place  if  you  get  there  ahead  of  time. 
The  bark  and  the  wood  is  for  our  fire.  I  gath- 
ered it  myself.  And  remember  that  fires  at 
night  attract  a  lot  of  Bugs  and  Moths.  You  '11 
catch  more  in  a  minute  there  than  you  can  in 
a  week  around  here.  You  '11  like  the  stories, 
too.  I  am  sure  that  you  do  not  know  why  the 
Bat-people  have  fur  like  the  Mouse  and  Fly 
like  the  Birds?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  admitted  the  Toad.  "I  wish 
I  did.  The  Bat  is  a  good  deal  like  a  Mouse 
with  wings.  I  wonder  why?" 

"Come  to  the  Council  and  learn  why,"  ad- 
vised the  Weasel.  "And  maybe  you  can  tell 
us  a  queer  thing  or  two,  yourself,"  he  added, 
cunningly. 

"Maybe,"  agreed  the  Toad,  soberly. 

"Well,  will  you  come?  The  Flying  Squirrel 
will  be  there  and  you  know  that  he  is  a  queer 
person  and  shy." 

"Yes,  I  know  he  is.    Did  he  tell  you  that 

134 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

he  'd  come  ?  "  asked  the  Toad,  watching  a  Moth 
fluttering  past  him. 

"Yes,  he  is  coming,  of  course,"  declared  the 
Weasel,  and  chuckled  to  himself  at  his  clever- 
ness in  dodging  the  question. 

"Well,  I  guess  I  '11  be  there,  then,  if  I  can 
get  there  in  time.  I  '11  start  this  minute.  I  've 
about  finished  my  supper,  anyhow.  Good-by" 
-and  he  crawled  awkwardly  away  from  the 
stone,  hopping  once  in  a  while  when  the  ground 
was  favorable. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  reached  the  point 
where  the  creek  emptied  its  water  into  the 
river,  and  the  Weasel  watched  the  Toad's  tum- 
bling crawl  until  the  bushes  hid  him. 

"My!"  said  the  Weasel  to  himself,  "if  I 
couldn't  move  faster  than  that  fellow  I  'd  starve 
to  death,  but  that  tongue  of  his  is  swift-moving 
enough.  I  'm  glad  that  I  'm  not  a  Blue-bottle 
Fly  or  a  Moth.  I  wonder  how  the  Toad  lives 
in  the  winter-time.  I  wish  I  had  thought  to 
ask  him.  There  are  no  Flies  in  the  winter,  and 

135 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

to  sit  around  and  wait,  as  he  does,  would  be 
impossible  in  the  cold,  even  if  there  were  Flies 
to  catch.  I  didn't  think  to  ask  him  about  the 
winter.  How  stupid  of  me !  I  '11  overtake  him 
and  learn  something/' 

He  jumped  from  the  stone  that  was  cooling 
in  the  night  breeze,  and  scampered  after  the 
Toad.  In  a  minute  he  saw  him  crawling  slowly 
through  the  bushes  that  grew  along  the  creek. 

"Hello!  "he  called. 

"  Hello,"  answered  the  Toad.  "  Do  you  think 
I  can  reach  the  Council  Ground  within  ten 
days?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Weasel,  "if  you  keep 
going.  You  have  already  travelled  quite  a  dis- 
tance" —  and  he  smiled.  "Say,  I  have  been 
wondering  about  you  since  you  left  me  down 
by  the  river,  and  I  can't  see  how  you  live  in 
the  winter-time." 

"How  does  the  Bear  live?"  asked  the  Toad, 
still  crawling  his  way  up  the  creek. 

"Oh,  the  Bear  sleeps,"  replied  the  Weasel, 

136 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

keeping  at  the  side  of  the  Toad  by  walking 
slowly. 

"So  do  I,"  said  the  Toad.  "I  sleep  without 
waking  to  eat,  as  he  does,  only  I  can  go  longer 
without  food  than  he  can." 

"Where  do  you  sleep,  I  wonder?" 

"Oh,  in  cracks  in  the  mud  where  swamps 
have  dried  up,  or  in  caves  —  lots  of  places/' 
said  the  Toad. 

"Well,  you  are  lucky.  That's  what  I  told 
the  Bear  once,  but  he  thinks  he  'd  rather  be 
able  to  travel  about  in  the  winter  than  to  sleep. 
You  see  OW-man  made  him  to  sleep  in  the  win- 
ter because  the  ground  is  frozen,  and  the  Bear 
can't  dig  roots  or  travel  in  the  snow.  His  legs 
are  too  short  and  his  body  is  too  heavy.'* 

"I  couldn't  live  in  the  snow,  either,"  replied 
the  Toad.  "I  'm  satisfied  to  sleep.  I  like  to 
sleep,  but  I  won't  get  much  rest  if  I  am  to  reach 
the  Council  Ground  within  ten  days,  and  talk- 
ing takes  time." 

The  Weasel  took  the  hint  and  turned  back. 

137 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Good  night,"  he  called.  "We  shall  have  a 
good  time  at  the  Council.  I  '11  see  you  there." 

"That  Weasel-person  is  surely  inquisitive," 
thought  the  Toad.  "I  guess  that  he  makes  his 
living  by  being  inquisitive,  though,  for  I  've 
seen  him  going  in  and  coming  out  of  empty 
holes  everywhere.  He 's  busy  all  the  time. 
He  is  glad  that  he  isn't  a  Toad,  and  I  am  equally 
pleased  that  I  'm  not  a  Weasel.  Now  look  at 
that  log  right  in  my  way,  and  there  is  no  bark 
on  it.  I  can't  climb  over  it,  so  I  '11  have  to  go 
around  it.  I  hope  it  isn't  a  long  log." 

The  Weasel  had  returned  to  the  river  after 
leaving  the  Toad-person,  and,  again  finding  the 
stone,  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  Bat.  He  was 
satisfied  with  what  he  had  already  done,  for  he 
felt  sure  that  the  Toad  would  have  something 
to  tell  at  the  Council  —  something  new  and 
strange. 

It  was  quite  dark  and  the  only  streak  of  light 
was  over  the  river,  where  the  water  reflected 
the  stars.  "I  don't  see  where  the  Bat-person 

138 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

can  be,"  thought  the  Weasel;  but  just  then  he 
saw  the  Bat  flying  in  a  crooked,  crazy  way  up 
the  river. 

"Hey,  you  Bat-person !  Wait  a  minute !"  he 
called. 

The  Bat  wheeled,  and,  flying  over  the  Weasel, 
asked:  "What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  to  invite  you  to  a  big  Council,"  re- 
plied the  Weasel.  "Come  down  here  a  minute, 
can't  you?" 

"I  can,  but  I  won't,"  said  the  Bat.  "I  don't 
like  you  very  well."  He  fluttered  over  the 
stone,  nevertheless,  and  the  cunning  Weasel, 
pretending  that  he  didn't  care  if  the  Bat  did 
go  away,  began  washing  his  face  with  his  paw. 

"What  sort  of  a  Council  is  it,  anyhow?"  in- 
quired the  Bat,  swooping  nearer. 

"Oh,  the  people  are  going  to  gather  up  near 
the  Big  Mountain  to  tell  funny  stories.  But 
you  don't  seem  to  be  interested,"  replied  the 
Weasel,  smoothing  the  fur  on  his  paw  with  his 
tongue.  "The  Toad-person  has  already  started 

139 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

for  the  Council  Ground,  although  the  meeting 
is  ten  days  distant.  But  he  is  anxious  to  be 
there.  You  catch  flies  yourself,  but  that  Toad- 
person  is  so  much  quicker  than  you  are  that 
your  fly-catching  seems  very  tame  —  extremely 
awkward,  I  should  say." 

"Is  that  so?"  asked  the  Bat  with  sarcasm. 

"Yes,  sir,  that  is  true,  but  you  do  not  appear 
to  care  to  learn  how  he  came  to  possess  his 
strange  power." 

"When  is  the  Council  to  be  held?"  asked  the 
Bat,  settling  on  a  stone  near  to  the  Weasel. 

"When  the  moon  is  dark,  ten  nights  from 
now." 

"Where  did  you  say  you  were  going  to  hold 
it?"  inquired  the  Bat. 

The  Weasel  told  him.  "I  'm  looking  for  the 
Flying  Squirrel,"  he  said.  "I  was  waiting  for 
the  night  to  grow  older  before  setting  out  into 
the  timber  to  seek  him,  when  you  came  along. 
I  thought  I  might  as  well  ask  you,  too,  but  if 
you " 

140 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Oh,  I  '11  come,"  interrupted  the  Bat.  "I  '11 
be  there.  Good  night "  -  and  away  he  went. 

"Well,  I  made  him  think  that  I  didn't  care 
much  if  he  didn't  come,"  laughed  the  Weasel. 
"That 's  the  way  to  handle  people  who  think 
they  are  important.  Now,  if  I  could  only  find 
the  Flying  Squirrel-person  I  would  be  satisfied 
and  take  a  nap." 

He  hopped  from  the  stone,  ran  away  into  the 
forest,  and,  finding  a  hollow  tree,  smelled  around 
it  for  a  time  and  then  sat  down  to  wait.  "He  's 
in  there,  all  right,  but  if  I  go  in  after  him  he  '11 
believe  I  'm  going  to  try  to  kill  him,  so  I  '11  just 
wait  until  he  comes  out,"  he  said. 

It  was  quiet  in  the  dark  forest,  and  the 
Weasel  could  hear  the  footsteps  of  night-prowl- 
ing forest-people  as  he  sat  by  the  hollow  tree, 
waiting  for  the  Flying  Squirrel  to  come  out. 
Suddenly  there  came  a  deep  voice,  calling: 
"Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto-kay !" 

"That's  the  Owl-person,"  murmured  the 
Weasel.  "I  wish  he  wouldn't  do  that.  The 

141 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Flying  Squirrel  is  as  much  afraid  of  him  as  he 
is  of  me.  I  '11  just  slip  over  there  and  ask  the 
Owl  to  go  away."  He  moved  swiftly,  for  he 
was  afraid  that  the  Flying  Squirrel-person  would 
come  out  of  the  hollow  tree  while  he  was  gone. 
"Say,  Owl-person!"  he  called.  "I  wish  you 
would  go  away  from  here.  I  am  waiting  for  the 
Flying  Squirrel  to  come  out  of  a  hollow  tree, 
and  he  won't  come  if  he  hears  your  voice." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  go  in  after  him  if  you 
want  him?"  asked  the  Owl.  "You  can  go  into 
any  hole  that  he  can  live  in." 

"I  don't  want  to  hurt  him.  I  have  some 
business  with  him  —  that 's  all.  You  see,  I 
want  to  talk  to  him  in  a  friendly  way.  That 's 
why  I  am  waiting  for  him  to  come  out." 

"Well,  one  tree  's  as  good  as  another,"  replied 
the  Owl.  "I'll  move  if  it  will  please  you"; 
and  on  silent  wings  that  carried  him  through 
the  forest  like  a  swift-moving  shadow  the  Owl 
flew  away. 

The  Weasel  ran  back  to  the  hollow  tree,  and 

142 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

almost  as  soon  as  he  reached  it  the  Flying  Squir- 
rel stuck  out  his  head. 

"  Hello,  brother ! "  greeted  the  Weasel.  "  It 's 
a  fine  night.  Come  out  and  talk  to  me." 

"No,  sir/'  replied  the  Flying  Squirrel.  "I 
don't  like  you  and  never  did.  Besides,  I  never 
shall  like  you"  — and  he  pulled  his  head  back 
out  of  sight. 

"Pshaw!"  laughed  the  Weasel;  "if  I  wanted 
to  chase  you  out  of  that  hole  I  could  easily  do 
so,  but  I  want  to  invite  you  to  a  big  Council. 
That  is  what  I  came  here  to  do,  and  that  is  why 
I  have  waited  here  for  you.  I  even  asked  the 
Owl-person  to  go  away  from  here  so  that  you 
wouldn't  be  frightened  by  his  voice.  Can  you 
hear  me?" 

"Yes,  I  can  hear  you,"  answered  the  Flying 
Squirrel,  "and  if  you  will  move  farther  away 
from  my  tree  I  '11  come  out." 

"All  right,"  agreed  the  Weasel,  and  he  moved 
away.  "Come  on,"  he  called;  "I  've  moved." 

The  Flying  Squirrel  came  out  of  his  hole  in 

143 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  hollow  tree.  "Now  what  about  the  Coun- 
cil?" he  asked. 

"Well,  it's  this  way,"  began  the  Weasel. 
"Some  time  ago  the  Bear  and  I  called  a  Council, 
and  it  was  a  success  until  some  of  the  forest- 
people  got  scared  at  something  and  ran  away. 
We  learned  many  things  and  heard  a  lot  of 
funny  stories,  too.  We  didn't  hear  half  that 
might  have  been  told;  and  so  I  am  calling  this 
Council,  and  inviting  the  smaller  people  to 
come.  Your  ways  are  peculiar,  and  I  thought 
perhaps  you  would  tell  us  How  It  Came  About. 
I  mean,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  Toad  and 
the  Bat  and  many  other  queer  people  will  tell 
how  they  came  to  possess  their  peculiarities, 
that  you  would  tell  us  how  you  came  by  your 
funny  wings." 

"They  are  not  wings,"  said  the  Flying  Squir- 
rel. "I  can't  really  fly." 

"I  know  that,"  replied  the  Weasel,  "but  you 
sail.  I  Ve  seen  you  jump  from  one  tree  to 
another,  and  you  jump  a  long  way  —  farther 

144 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 
than  the  Pine  Squirrel  or  the  Chipmunk-per- 


son." 


"Oh,  yes,  that 's  true,"  agreed  the  Flying 
Squirrel;  "and  I  '11  come  if  you  will  promise  to 
let  me  alone  and  see  that  the  Mink  —  will  he  be 
there,  do  you  suppose  ?  "  He  broke  off,  worried. 

"Maybe/'  said  the  Weasel,  "but  there  will 
be  no  quarrelling.  That 's  agreed." 

"Well,  I  '11  come,  then.    Where  is  it  to  be  - 
the  Council?" 

"Up  at  the  foot  of  the  Big  Mountain.  Fol- 
low the  creek  until  you  come  to  the  place  where 
the  water  is  falling  down  its  side.  You  '11  find 
me  there." 

"When  is  it  to  be?" 

"At  the  dark  of  the  moon." 

"All  right.  I'll  come,"  said  the  Flying 
Squirrel,  "and  I  '11  tell  about  my  wings,  as  you 
call  them,  if  the  rest  tell  their  secrets." 

"Good  night,"  said  the  Weasel.  "It's  get- 
ting late,  and  I  have  a  long  way  to  go.  My 
wife  isn't  feeling  very  well,  and  I  ought  to  be 

145 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

home."  He  turned  away.  Then  he  stopped. 
"Say,"  he  called  back,  "if  you  see  any  strange 
people  that  you  think  should  be  invited  to  the 
Council,  don't  hesitate  to  ask  them.  I  'd  like 
to  have  them  come." 

"All  right,"  answered  the  Flying  Squirrel. 
"  I  might  run  across  the  Tree  Toad.  Have  you 
invited  him?" 

"No,  I  never  thought  of  the  Tree  Toad-per- 
son. Ask  him  by  all  means.  He 's  queer,  and 
we  want  him  to  come." 

"All  right;  if  I  see  him  I  '11  ask  him,"  prom- 
ised the  Flying  Squirrel.  "Good  night." 

"Well,  that 's  two;  and  perhaps  the  Flying 
Squirrel  will  invite  the  Tree  Toad.  That 
will  make  three,"  mused  the  Weasel.  "I've 
got  to  work  hard  if  I  succeed  in  getting  a 
crowd  to  that  Council.  I  can  see  that  plain- 
ly." 

He  did  not  go  home,  but  found  a  hollow  log 
and  crawled  in  to  take  a  nap.  He  had  told  the 
Flying  Squirrel  that  his  wife  was  ill,  but  that 

146 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

was  not  true.  He  often  stayed  out  all  night,  so 
his  wife  would  not  notice  his  failure  to  come 
home.  It  was  warm  and  cosy  in  the  hollow 
log,  and  there  was  a  nest  of  feathers  there  that 
some  other  of  the  small  forest-people  had  made, 
and  he  curled  up  in  the  nest  and  went  to  sleep. 
Out  in  the  forest,  in  the  top  of  a  great  pine-tree, 
the  Owl  called:  "Coog  —  Coog-a-noots  —  Sto- 
kay!"  time  and  time  again,  but  the  Weasel 
didn't  hear  him. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  there  was  a  stir 
among  the  dead  leaves  near  the  end  of  the  hol- 
low log,  and  a  Bob-tailed  Mole  crawled  into  the 
hole.  He  was  going  to  bed,  and  ran  on  into 
the  hollow  log,  thinking  of  a  talk  that  he  had 
just  had  with  a  Deer-mouse.  He  reached  his 
nest  of  feathers  and  saw  the  Weasel  asleep 
there.  "Mercy!"  he  cried,  and  turned  about 
to  scamper  away  as  fast  as  he  could  run.  "After 
dodging  the  Owl  and  getting  away  from  two 
Hawks  and  a  Mink  since  three  o'clock  this 
afternoon,  I  come  home  to  my  bed  and  find 

147 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  worst  person  in  the  world  sleeping  in  it. 
Mercy!" 

"Wait,  Brother  Mole,"  called  the  Weasel, 
awakening.  "Wait  a  minute;  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  Mole,  running  away. 
"I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
you.  You  kill  my  people  and  you  nearly  caught 
me,  but  you  can't  catch  me  now,"  he  called 
from  a  log  where  he  had  stopped. 

"I  don't  want  to  catch  you,  brother.  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  to  come  to  a  Council  at  the 
foot  of  the  Big  Mountain,"  said  the  Weasel, 
from  the  top  of  the  hollow  log.  "All  the  queer 
forest-people,  mostly  the  smaller  ones,  will  be 
there,  you  see,  and  they  are  going  to  tell  us 
How  It  Came  About  Stories." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  How  It  Came  About 
Stories?"  asked  the  Bob-tailed  Mole,  curiously. 

"Well,  it's  this  way.  The  Toad-person 
catches  flies  and  still  he  is  clumsy.  He  will 
tell  us  how  he  does  it  —  see  ?  " 

148 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Oh,  pshaw !  I  know  how  he  does  it,"  broke 
in  the  Bob-tailed  Mole.  "He  catches  them 
with  his  tongue/' 

"Yes,  but  how  did  he  come  to  possess  that 
queer  tongue?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure,"  replied  the  Bob- 
tailed  Mole. 

"Of  course  you  don't,  but  he  will  tell  us 
at  the  Council,  and  all  the  people  there  will 
tell  us  something  that  we  didn't  know  before. 
Now  you  have  a  queer  tail,  Brother  Mole,  and 
we  'd  all  like  to  know  How  It  Came  About  — 
see?" 

"Oh!" 

"Yes —  that's  it,"  said  the  Weasel,  en- 
couragingly. "They  '11  all  be  there.  I  've  just 
had  a  talk  with  the  Flying  Squirrel  and  the 
Bat,  and  the  Flying  Squirrel  said  that  he  'd 
ask  the  Tree  Toad-person,  himself.  The  Big 
Toad  is  on  his  way  to  the  Council  Ground  now." 

"When  is  the  Council  to  be  held?"  asked 
the  Bob-tailed  Mole. 

149 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"When  the  moon  is  dark/'  replied  the  Weasel, 
"but  you  see  the  Toad-person  travels  so  slowly 
that  he  has  already  started." 

"Oh,  I  'd  like  to  go,  but  my  enemies  will  all 
be  there,  and  if  I  went  I  'd  never  get  away  alive. 
They  never  tell  the  truth,  my  enemies  don't. 
No,  I  won't  take  the  chance,"  declared  the 
Mole. 

"There  will  be  no  quarrelling  and  everybody 
shall  have  six  hours  free  from  trouble  from  his 
enemies  after  the  Council  is  over.  That 's 
agreed,"  promised  the  Weasel. 

"Six  hours?"  asked  the  Bob-tailed  Mole. 
"Well,  if  that 's  the  agreement,  I  '11  come." 

"Good,"  said  the  Weasel.  "Just  follow  the 
creek  till  you  come  to  the  place.  I  '11  be  there. 
And  now,  if  you  want  your  bed,  you  may  have 
it,  for  I  have  slept  enough  and  I  have  work 
to  do.  Good  night,"  he  called,  "and  don't 
forget  the  time  nor  the  place." 

"I  won't,"  answered  the  Mole,  crawling 
cautiously  toward  his  hollow  log.  Then  all 

150 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

was  quiet  in  the  forest  once  more  and  the  Bob- 
tailed  Mole  went  to  sleep. 

"Well!  That  was  lucky,"  said  the  Weasel 
to  himself,  "I  never  thought  of  the  Bob-tailed 
Mole  and  he  makes  four.  Now  if  I  can  find 
my  friend  the  Bob-cat,  I  '11  ask  him.  It 's 
funny,  but  the  Mole's  tail  made  me  think  of 
the  Bob-cat.  I  wonder  where  he  can  be. 
Down  by  the  river  most  likely.  I  '11  go  down 
there  and  look  around." 

He  went  back  to  the  river  and  followed  along 
its  bank  in  the  thick  willows,  but  could  find 
no  trace  of  the  Bob-cat  there.  "I  guess  he 
must  be  along  here  some  place,"  he  said  aloud. 
"I  '11  just  keep  going  on  until  I  find  him." 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  great  fluttering  of  wings 
and  stopped.  "That's  the  Bob-cat,  I  am 
sure,"  he  thought.  "He  's  caught  a  Ruffed 
Grouse." 

The  sound  had  come  from  an  especially  dense 
thicket,  and  he  made  his  way  into  it.  All  was 
quiet  now;  but  soon  he  saw  the  Bob-cat  eating 

151 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

a  Ruffed  Grouse  as  he  had  suspected.  "Hello, 
brother/'  he  called  cheerily. 

The  Bob-cat  looked  up  and  snarled.  "Go 
about  your  business.  I  'm  not  going  to  divide 
with  you/'  he  said.  "I  had  a  hard  time  catch- 
ing this  bird  and  I  'm  hungry/' 

"I  don't  want  you  to  divide  with  me, 
brother,"  replied  the  Weasel,  stopping  near 
the  Bob-cat.  "I  have  been  looking  for  you  to 
tell  you  that  we  are  going  to  have  a  Council 
at  the  foot  of  the  Big  Mountain,  and  to  ask 
you  to  come  —  that 's  all." 

"A  Council?"  asked  the  Bob-cat,  spitting 
some  feathers  from  his  mouth.  "What  kind 
of  a  Council?" 

"Oh,  a  story-telling  Council,"  replied  the 
Weasel.  "You  know  the  Toad  is  ugly-looking 
and  awkward,  yet  he  can  catch  a  Blue-bottle 
Fly  in  the  sunshine.  Nobody  else  can  do  that 
as  easily  as  he  does,  and  he  is  going  to  tell  us 
How  It  Came  About  —  see?  Then  all  the 
others  will  have  stories  to  tell  concerning  their 

152 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

peculiar  powers,  and  we  shall  learn  many  things 
that  we  did  not  know  before.    I  wish  you  'd 


come." 


"I  haven't  any  great  peculiarity/'  said  the 
Bob-cat  with  his  sharp  claws  fast  in  the  flesh 
of  the  dead  Ruffed  Grouse.  "Why  should  I 
go  to  the  Council  ?" 

"To  hear  what  the  others  tell,"  returned  the 
Weasel,  "and,  besides,  you  are  spotted  all  over. 
How  did  it  come  about?" 

"Oh,  my  spots  interest  you,  do  they?"  asked 
the  Bob-cat.  "Well,  I  know  how  I  came  by 
them,  and  if  I  told  you  you  wouldn't  believe 
me." 

"Yes,  I  would,"  the  Weasel  hastened  to  say. 
"And  if  you  will  come  and  tell  us  the  story, 
you  will  be  repaid  by  hearing  others  that  are 
as  strange  and  hard  to  believe  as  your  own. 
Will  you  come?" 

"When  is  it?" 

"When  the  moon  is  dark.  That 's  ten  nights 
from  now  —  only  it 's  almost  morning." 

153 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"All  right,  I  '11  come,"  agreed  the  Bob-cat, 
"but  I  want  to  eat  this  Grouse  now  if  you  will 
go  away." 

"I'll  count  on  you,  then,  shall  I?"  asked 
the  Weasel,  turning  to  go  away. 

"Yes,  I '11  be  there." 

"Follow  the  creek  until  you  come  to  the 
place,"  said  the  Weasel.  "Good  night  —  and 
say,  if  you  see  anybody  with  peculiarities,  ask 
him  to  come,  will  you?" 

"Yes,"  promised  the  Bob-cat,  "but  not  many 
of  the  small  people  like  me  very  well." 

"I  know  that,  and  they  are  not  in  love  with 
me,  either,"  laughed  the  Weasel,  "but  Old- 
man  made  us  and  told  us  both  what  to  do,  and 
we  do  it.  I  don't  see  why  they  blame  us  so 
much." 

"Nor  do  I,"  replied  the  Bob-cat.  "Good 
night,  and  if  I  see  the  Gopher,  I  '11  ask  him 
to  come  to  the  Council.  He  hates  me,  but  he  's 
the  only  person  I  know  who  goes  to  sleep  in 
the  month  of  August  and  sleeps  until  spring. 

154 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

He  's  lots  worse  than  the  Bear  for  sleeping.  I 
wonder  why?" 

"Say,  be  sure  and  do  that  —  ask  him,  by 
all  means/'  urged  the  Weasel,  "and  tell  him 
that  there  will  be  no  quarrelling.  There  will  be 
six  hours  given  to  everybody  to  find  his  home 
after  the  Council  is  adjourned.  Be  sure  to  tell 
him  that,  for  he  's  an  awful  coward." 

"  I  guess  you  'd  be  a  coward  if  you  were  the 
Gopher,"  replied  the  Bob-cat,  "but  I'll  ask 
him.  Good  night." 

The  Weasel  went  out  of  the  thicket.  "That 
makes  two  more.  I  'm  doing  well,"  he  chuckled. 
"Now  who  else  ought  I  to  ask,  I  wonder? 
There  is  no  use  in  staying  here  any  longer;  I  '11 
go  back  into  the  forest  and  find  something  for 
breakfast  before  the  sun  comes  up." 

He  did  not  have  far  to  go  until  he  came  to 
the  forest;  and  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  en- 
tered it  he  saw  the  Bear  talking  to  the  Hard- 
shell Turtle  on  the  edge  of  a  swamp. 

"Now  what 's  the  Bear-person  up  to,  I  won- 

155 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

der?"  thought  the  Weasel  as  he  ran  along  a 
log  that  reached  into  the  water  of  the  swamp. 
"I'll  find  out/'  he  said  to  himself.  And 
stopping  on  the  log  not  far  from  the  water  he 
called,  "Good  morning." 

The  Turtle  answered,  but  the  Bear  looked 
as  though  he  had  been  caught  in  some  ques- 
tionable act  and  growled,  "How  are  you?" 

"I  'm  fine,"  laughed  the  Weasel,  "but  what 
are  you  doing  here  so  early." 

"I  'm  minding  my  own  business,"  answered 
the  Bear  gruffly. 

"He  was  telling  me  of  a  Council  up  at  the 
foot  of  the  Big  Mountain,"  said  the  Turtle.  "  I 
guess  there 's  no  secret  about  it.  He  advises  me 
to  attend,  but  I  am  a  slow  traveller  and  the  foot 
of  the  Big  Mountain  is  quite  a  way  from  here." 

"Not  so  far,"  replied  the  Weasel,  with  a 
cunning  glance  at  the  Bear.  "The  Toad  is 
slow  —  much  slower  than  you  are,  and  he  has 
already  started  for  the  Council  Grounds." 

"Is  that  so?"  inquired  the  Turtle. 

156 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Yes,  upon  my  word,  he  has  started/'  de- 
clared the  Weasel. 

"Well,  I  must  be  getting  along,"  growled  the 
Bear.  "You  two  can  talk,  if  you  want  to," 
and  he  left  the  swamp. 

The  Weasel  noted  the  direction  he  had  taken 
and  then  turned  to  talk  to  the  Turtle.  "So 
the  Bear  has  invited  you  to  come  to  the  Coun- 
cil, has  he?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  and  I  'm  going,"  said  the  Turtle.  "If 
the  Toad-person  can  reach  the  place  in  time, 
I  'm  sure  that  I  can.  The  Bear  said  it  would 
be  great  fun,  and  I  am  willing  to  tell  how 
I  came  to  have  my  shell  if  the  rest  will 
talk." 

"They  will,"  promised  the  Weasel.  "Say, 
why  don't  you  travel  up  the  creek  in  the  water  ?  " 

"It 's  too  swift  for  me,"  answered  the  Turtle. 

"Maybe  it  is,"  agreed  the  Weasel,  "but  start 
right  away,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  this  afternoon.  I  '11  be  there.  Good- 
by." 

157 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Good-by,  Brother  Turtle/'  called  the  Weasel, 
anxious  to  overtake  the  Bear. 

He  knew  that  he  would  have  to  be  extremely 
careful  not  to  offend  him,  but  he  could  not  re- 
frain from  engaging  him  in  conversation  regard- 
ing the  coming  Council.  "Oh,  this  is  a  great 
joke/'  he  laughed.  "The  Bear  says  that  he 
will  not  come  to  my  Council,  and  yet  he  is  in- 
viting people  to  be  there.  He  thinks  that  I 
believe  he  will  not  attend.  But  I  was  sure  that 
nothing  could  keep  him  away,  and  now  I  know 
it.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  There  he  is  now,  the  big  lout  I 
Hello!"  he  called.  "I  ran  to  overtake  you  to 
express  my  thanks  for  your  kindness  in  inviting 
the  Turtle-person  to  my  Council.  It 's  really 
too  bad  that  you  can't  come  yourself." 

The  Bear  sat  down  to  scratch  a  spot  back  of 
his  ear  with  his  hind  paw.  "Well,  I  am  not 
going  to  your  Council,  but  I  thought  I  'd  help 
you  by  asking  the  smaller  people  I  ran  across, 
that  is,  without  putting  myself  to  any  trouble/' 
he  said. 

158 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"That  is  exceedingly  good  of  you,  and  I  will 
tell  you  what  is  said  around  the  fire  to  pay 
for  it,"  promised  the  Weasel. 

"Oh,  I  'm  not  interested,"  mumbled  the  Bear. 
"  It 's  your  affair.  I  expect  to  be  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Mountain  when  the  moon  is  dark. 
I  have  a  friend  over  there  and  he  expects  me." 

"I  'm  sorry  you  feel  about  fire  as  you  do," 
sympathized  the  Weasel,  with  a  cunning  look  in 
his  eyes. 

"Well,  I  do,"  returned  the  Bear.  "Don't 
even  mention  fire  to  me.  I  shall  never  go  near 
fire  again  — never." 

"Have  you  —  or  —  did  you  —  now  —  I  was 
going  to  ask  you  if  you  had  happened  to  run 
across  any  other  strange  people  besides  the  Tur- 
tle, without  taking  any  extra  trouble?"  stam- 
mered the  Weasel.  But  his  faltering  speech  was 
assumed,  for  he  was  but  playing  with  the  Bear. 

"No!"  snapped  the  Bear;  "or,  yes  —  maybe. 
You  '11  see  on  the  night  of  your  Council"  —  and 
he  walked  away. 

159 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Oh,  ha-ha-ha-he-he-he,"  laughed  the  Weasel, 
after  the  Bear  had  disappeared.  "He 's  my 
messenger  —  my  helper  —  the  Bear  is,  and  I 
shall  not  have  to  work  very  hard  to  get  a  crowd 
at  my  Council.  I  know  just  where  he  will  be ! 
I  saw  the  very  spot  and  I  saw  him  looking  at 
it.  Very  well,  Brother  Bear,  remember  that 
those  who  listen  secretly  hear  but  little  good  of 
themselves,  and  I  am  sure  that  your  ears  will 
burn  on  the  night  of  the  Council.  Well,  I  'm 
going  to  look  for  something  to  eat." 

The  sun  was  up  now,  and  his  light  was  steal- 
ing into  the  dark  places  in  the  great  forest, 
driving  away  the  shadows  and  drinking  the 
crystal  drops  of  dew  on  the  green  leaves  of 
plants,  and  even  from  the  bright-colored  petals 
of  wild  flowers  that  grew  plentifully  in  the  rich, 
sandy  soil  of  the  timber  lands.  The  Weasel,  in 
his  brown  coat,  could  scarcely  be  seen  as  he 
began  to  hunt  for  his  breakfast  among  the  dead 
logs  and  roots  of  trees  that  had  been  blown 
down  by  the  wind.  At  last,  finding  a  Rabbit's 

160 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

burrow,  he  crept  into  it,  and  in  a  minute  there 
was  a  frightened  cry  down  deep  in  the  hole  in 
the  ground,  but  nothing  came  out  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  it  was  the  wicked  Weasel  him- 
self who  crept  out  of  the  Rabbit's  burrow, 
blinked  in  the  bright  sunlight  a  moment,  and 
ran  away. 

Shall  I  tell  you  what  he  had  done?  He  had 
killed  the  Rabbit,  sucked  his  blood,  eaten  ever 
so  little  of  the  tender  meat,  and  then  left  the 
place  feeling  that  he  had  done  no  wrong. 

The  morning  was  splendid.  Sunbeams  slanted 
away  into  thickets,  and  in  a  gentle  breeze  spots 
of  shade  and  sunshine  danced  on  the  ground 
beneath  giant  trees.  The  air  was  full  of 
the  pleasant  sounds  of  bird-song.  The  Weasel 
stopped  to  listen  to  a  Hermit  Thrush  that 
perched  on  the  limb  of  a  bush  above  him,  and 
heard  the  Yellowhammers  calling  in  their  laugh- 
ing way  as  they  drummed  their  signals  to  one 
another  from  the  dry  tops  of  pine-trees  —  sig- 
nals that  only  the  Yellowhammer-people  know. 

161 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Suddenly  the  Hermit  Thrush  ceased  his  singing, 
and  the  Weasel  saw  the  Lynx  go  by.  Finally, 
while  yet  the  Thrush  was  silent,  the  Skunk-per- 
son passed  and  so  did  the  Porcupine,  but  the 
Weasel  only  said  "Good  morning"  to  each,  for 
they  had  attended  the  Council  at  the  Big  Lake 
and  had  told  their  stories.  At  last  the  Hermit 
Thrush  flew  away,  and  the  Weasel  went  on. 
He  stopped  to  joke  with  the  Chipmunk,  but 
there  was  a  Spider's  web  across  the  entrance  to 
his  hole.  "Ah,  ha!"  thought  the  cunning 
Weasel,  "the  Chipmunk-person  is  not  at  home 
—  hasn't  been  home  for  some  time,  or  the  Spider 
wouldn't  set  a  Fly-trap  in  his  doorway.  I  do 
hope  that  nothing  has  happened  to  my  friend 
with  the  striped  clothes,  but  every  one  must 
take  care  of  himself,  I  suppose." 

It  was  past  noon  when  he  came  to  the  spot 
at  the  foot  of  the  Big  Mountain  where  he  had 
piled  the  birch  bark  and  the  sticks  for  his  fire. 
There  was  no  one  there,  of  course.  He  gathered 
more  of  the  bark  and  wood,  and  while  he  was 

162 


And  the  Weasel  saw  the  Lynx  go  by 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

thus  employed  he  heard  a  cracking  sound  in 
the  dry  brush  and  stopped  to  listen.  "Ah,  ha !" 
he  said^to  himself,  "that 's  the  Bear,  I  '11  bet. 
He  can't  stay  away.  Well,  I  won't  let  him  see 
me  this  time"  -and  he  hid  in  a  hole  in  a  log. 

The  Bear  came  to  the  spot  and  dropped  sev- 
eral small  sticks  of  wood  on  the  pile.  He  was 
afraid  to  add  any  large  pieces,  lest  the  Weasel 
suspect  him.  Then  he  went  to  look  at  the  spot 
where  he  intended  to  hide  on  the  night  of  the 
Council,  and  the  Weasel  ran  away,  chuckling  to 
himself. 

"I  '11  rest,"  he  said.  "The  Bear  is  doing  the 
work,  so  I  will  let  him  do  it.  Anybody  he  in- 
vites will  be  satisfactory  to  me."  He  was  pass- 
ing a  cliff  of  rock  and  there  was  a  cave  that 
reached  far  back  into  the  mountain  there.  A 
hole  of  any  kind  is  a  great  temptation  to  the 
Weasel;  so  he  went  into  the  cave  to  look  around. 
His  nose  caught  a  peculiar  odor  as  he  entered, 
and  then  he  saw  a  small  pile  of  odds  and  ends 
of  everything  near  the  back  of  the  cave.  "Now 

163 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

this  is  luck,"  he  said,  for  the  Weasel  talks  to 
himself  a  great  deal.  "The  Mountain  Rat  lives 
here  and  I  '11  wait  for  his  return.  He  is  a  queer 
person,  who  gathers  things  for  which  he  can 
have  no  possible  use.  I  '11  ask  him  to  come  to 
the  Council  and  tell  us  How  It  Came  About. 
My !  I  don't  like  his  smell  very  well." 

It  was  very  dark  in  the  cave;  but  the  Weasel 
can  see  in  darkness,  so  he  sat  down  to  wait  for 
the  return  of  the  Mountain  Rat.  Water  was 
dripping  from  a  seam  in  the  roof,  and  there  was 
a  tiny  pool  just  under  it  that  caught  each  clear, 
cold  drop  as  it  fell  from  the  top  of  the  cave. 
He  began  to  count  the  drops.  "One  —  two  — 
three  —  four.  Oh,  mercy !"  he  cried  at  last,  as 
the  regular  plop  —  plop  —  plop  —  plop  of  the 
drops  exasperated  him.  "I'd  go  crazy  if  I 
lived  here  with  that  everlasting  drip,  drip,  drip 
in  my  ears  night  and  day,  forever.  My,  I  wish 
he  'd  come !  I  want  to  get  out  of  this  place." 

The  wind,  stirring  outside,  made  a  strange, 
moaning  sound  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and 

164 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

then  the  Weasel  saw  a  gray  object  scurrying 
along  the  floor  toward  him.  Suddenly  it 
stopped,  and  two  fiery  eyes  peered  at  him  in 
the  darkness. 

"Hello,"  said  the  Weasel.  "I  was  waiting 
for  you." 

"Well,  if  you  wait  for  me  to  come  back  you  '11 
wait  a  long  time,"  returned  the  Mountain  Rat, 
running  away.  r 

"Wait,  brother  — waif!"  called  the  Weasel. 

"I  'm  no  brother  of  yours,  fellow,"  cried  the 
frightened  Rat.  "I  'm  no  relation  at  all,  and 
not  even  an  acquaintance." 

He  was  gone,  and  again  the  Weasel  could 
hear  only  the  plop  — plop  — plop  of  the  drop- 
ping water. 

"Why,  the  smelly  coward!"  he  laughed,  and 
ran  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave  and  looked  about. 
The  light  was  bright  after  being  in  the  dark 
cave  so  long.  Presently  he  saw  the  Mountain 
Rat  sitting  on  a  stone  not  far  away.  "I  was 
going  to  invite  you  to  a  big  Council  at  the  foot 

165 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

of  the  Big  Mountain  when  the  moon  is  dark," 
called  the  Weasel.  "All  the  queer  people  will 
be  there.  But  you  don't  seem  to  care  to  listen 
to  me,"  he  continued,  as  he  turned  and  pre- 
tended he  was  going  away. 

"What 's  it  for,  the  Council?"  asked  the  Rat. 

"Why,  it 's  an  entertainment  for  those  who 
are  invited,"  replied  the  Weasel,  still  moving 
slowly  away.  "I  am  not  inviting  everybody, 
either,"  he  continued.  "And  you  are  the  first 
one  that  failed  to  show  interest  in  the  affair. 
Good  afternoon." 

"Wait  a  minute,  can't  you?"  called  the  Rat. 
"You  know  that  you  are  no  friend  of  mine; 
at  least,  I  know  it,  and  coming  home  to  find 
you  there  is  enough  to  upset  a  person.  Tell 
me  more  about  the  Council.  What  are  the 
people  going  to  do  there  ?  " 

"They  are  going  to  tell  How  It  Came  About 
that  they  possess  their  peculiar  powers  or 
strange  habits  —  all  of  them,"  replied  the 
Weasel,  stopping. 

166 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  haven't  any  strange  power,"  declared 
the  Mountain  Rat. 

"No,  perhaps  you  haven' t,"  agreed  the 
Weasel,  "but  you  own  a  desire  to  possess  every- 
thing that  you  can  drag  or  carry  away,  whether 
it  is  of  worth  to  you  or  not.  It  doesn't  seem 
to  make  any  difference.  You  're  a  thief  who 
steals  for  the  love  of  stealing,  and  we  'd  like 
to  know  How  It  Came  About." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?" 

"Yes." 

"I  have  to  do  such  things." 

"I  know  it,  or  you  wouldn't  do  them,"  agreed 
the  Weasel,  "but  How  It  Came  About  is  what 
we  want  to  know  —  see?" 

"Umhu." 

"Well?" 

"I  '11  come,"  promised  the  Rat.  "I  'm  glad 
that  you  asked  me." 

The  Weasel  went  away,  leaving  the  Mountain 
Rat  to  himself.  He  hopped  upon  a  fallen  tree 
to  run  along  its  length  because  of  the  roughness 

167 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

of  the  ground.  There  were  limbs  still  on  the 
fallen  tree,  and  suddenly  he  ran  into  a  Spider's 
web  that  had  been  cunningly  stretched  between 
two  of  them  to  catch  Flies.  The  web  stuck 
to  his  face  and  he  stopped,  impatiently,  to  rub 
it  away.  "I  hate  Spiders'  webs,"  he  said,  while 
he  continued  to  brush  his  face  and  whiskers 
to  free  them  from  the  close-clinging,  almost 
invisible  threads.  "They're  so  sticky  and 
tickly  and  — "  He  sat  up  suddenly  and  looked 
about.  "I  know  what  I  '11  do.  I  '11  ask  the 
Spider  to  come  to  the  Council.  He  's  a  queer 
person  and  can  tell  us  How  It  Came  About  that 
he  sets  his  web-traps  to  catch  Flies.  I  don't  like 
his  ways  for  I  'm  always  running  into  his  webs 
in  the  forest,  even  across  the  entrances  of  hol- 
low logs.  I  wonderwhere  he  is  ?  "  he  said  aloud. 
"I  'm  right  here,"  spoke  the  Spider  from  one 
of  the  dead  limbs.  "You  have  broken  my  web, 
and  now  I  shall  have  to  spin  it  again.  It  was 
in  a  good  place,  too;  I  caught  two  Flies  with  it 
this  morning." 

168 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I'm  sorry,  Brother  Spider,"  replied  the 
Weasel,  "but  I  didn't  see  your  web.  I  don't 
like  to  run  into  webs  because  they  stick  to  my 
face,  and  if  I  had  seen  this  one  of  yours  I  would 
have  gone  around  it.  Honer.t  I  would." 

"Everybody  breaks  my  webs,"  grumbled 
the  Spider,  "and  it  takes  much  time  and  work 
to  spin  them.  I  live  by  making  webs." 

"Yes,  I  know  you  are  a  trapper  and  I  'm 
glad  that  I  am  not  a  Fly,  for  your  webs  are  so 
fine  and  wonderful  that  only  in  the  sunlight 
that  glints  on  the  shiny  threads  you  spin  can 
any  person  see  them.  I  've  seen  you  drop  from 
tall  trees  dangling  at  the  end  of  so  fine  a  thread 
that  I  wondered  how  it  could  hold  your  weight, 
and  I  've  seen  you  blown  by  the  wind  still  holding 
to  your  silvery  strand.  It 's  wonderful,  I  think." 

"Oh,  the  winds  help  me  to  set  my  traps. 
They  often  carry  me  and  the  end  of  the  thread 
that  I  am  spinning  to  the  place  where  I  want 
to  fasten  the  web,"  said  the  Spider.  "Where 
are  you  going?" 

169 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  was  looking  for  you''  lied  the  Weasel. 
"That  is,  IjWas  looking  for  queer  people/'  he 
corrected  himself,  remembering  that  the  Spider 
had  heard  him  talk  aloud.  "I  want  to  ask  you 
to  come  to  a  Council  that  is  to  be  held  at  the 
dark  of  the  moon  at  the  foot  of  the  Big  Moun- 
tain. Will  you  come  ?  " 

"What  sort  of  a  Council?"  asked  the  Spider. 

Then  the  Weasel  told  him  all  about  it  and 
said:  "We'd  like  to  know  how  you  came  to 
set  your  net-traps  in  the  forest,  and  how  you 
came  by  the  power  to  spin  threads  as  strong  as 
yours  are  and  yet  so  fine  that  they  can  scarcely 
be  seen/' 

"I  wish  they  were  strong  enough  to  bruise 
the  noses  of  people  who  break  them/'  declared 
the  Spider.  "Did  you  say  the  Toad-person 
would  be  there?" 

"Yes.  He 's  on  his  way  now,"  said  the 
Weasel. 

"Well,  he's  a  fly-catcher  himself,  and  I'd 
like  to  hear  his  story." 

170 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"I  should  say  that  he  was  a  fly-catcher," 
laughed  the  Weasel.  "Will  you  come?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  so,"  said  the  Spider.  "But 
just  now  I  must  fix  up  the  web  that  you  have 
broken,  if  you  are  through  talking." 

"Good-by,"  bowed  the  Weasel,  taking  the 
hint.  "I  '11  see  you  at  the  Council,"  he  called 
as  he  ran  on  down  to  the  small  end  of  the 
fallen  tree  and  then  jumped  to  the  ground. 
"He  '11  have  something  to  tell,  I  'm  sure,"  he 
thought.  "  I  'm  glad  I  ran  into  his  old  web, 
for  it  made  me  think  of  him.  I  wonder  how 
many  people  the  Bear  has  invited  ?  My !  but 
I  'm  tired,"  he  yawned.  "I  guess  I  '11  go  home. 
I  haven't  been  there  in  ever  so  long.  My  wife 
will  be  cross,  no  doubt,  but  I  '11  explain,  I  '11 
explain.  The  Bear  and  other  people  will  spread 
the  news  of  the  coming  Council.  Yes,  I  '11  go 
home  and  rest." 

He  did  not  go  out  the  next  day  looking  for 
people  to  invite,  nor  the  next,  nor  even  the  next, 
but  slept  a  good  deal  and  rested. 

171 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Almost  before  he  realized  it  the  time  arrived 
for  the  meeting  at  the  foot  of  the  Big  Moun- 
tain, and  early  on  the  morning  of  the  Council 
he  went  to  the  spot  where  he  had  piled  the  wood. 
The  pile  had  grown  and  he  knew  that  the  Bear 
had  been  busy;  but  he  was  careful  not  to  go 
near  the  spot  where  he  was  sure  the  big  fellow 
was  lying.  "I  just  know  he's  there,"  he 
chuckled,  "but  I  '11  pretend  that  I  don't.  I 
wonder  how  many  people  will  come  to-night?" 

"Hello!"  The  voice  was  behind  him,  and 
he  turned  to  behold  the  Toad,  who  said:  "I  'm 
here,  you  see  —  got  here  this  morning." 

"Good,"  smiled  the  Weasel.  "Take  a  nap 
and  rest  now,  for  it  will  be  a  long  time  before 
the  others  arrive." 

"Well,  /  'm  here !"  called  the  Hard-shell  Tur- 
tle, tumbling  over  a  stick,  "and  I  passed  the 
Tree  Toad  down  there  a  little  way." 

"Can  he  make  it  in  time?"  asked  the  Weasel 
anxiously. 

"Oh,  yes.    He 's  got  all  day  for  it,"  answered 

172 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  Turtle,  sliding  into  the  creek,  where  the 
water  eddied  against  the  bank.  "  I  '11  wait 
here,  I  guess,"  he  said.  "It 's  cooler." 

The  Weasel  laid  his  fire  ready  for  lighting, 
talking  pleasantly  to  the  Toad  the  while,  but 
the  Toad  didn't  answer.  He  was  sound  asleep. 
The  Weasel  found  it  hard  not  to  take  a  peep 
at  the  Bear,  but  he  refrained  and  spent  his  time 
clearing  the  ground  of  all  sticks  and  pebbles, 
around  the  spot  that  he  had  selected  for  the 
fire.  At  last  the  sun  went  down  behind  the 
Big  Mountain  and  the  evening  breeze  sprang  up 
to  cool  the  world.  The  shadows  crept  out  of 
the  bushes,  growing  bolder  every  minute,  and 
finally  covered  the  Council  Ground  with  their 
cloak  of  darkness.  "It 's  time  to  light  my  fire 
now,"  said  the  Weasel.  "Wake  up,  Brother 
Toad.  This  party  is  about  to  begin." 

The  Toad  opened  his  eyes  just  as  the  blaze 
brightened  among  the  small  twigs  and  bark 
that  the  Weasel  had  carefully  laid.  "I  guess 
I  Ve  been  asleep,"  he  said. 

173 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"You  guess  you  have?"  laughed  the  Weasel. 
"Well,  I  know  you  have.  Here  comes  the  Tree 
Toad!  Welcome  to  the  Council,  brother!"  he 
cried  joyfully,  as  the  little  Tree  Toad  crawled 
toward  the  fire,  blinking  in  its  light. 

The  forest  was  black  now,  and  the  fire  made 
a  ring  of  light  that  kept  the  shadows  away,  but 
yet  no  other  people  had  arrived.  The  Weasel 
was  growing  anxious,  but  soon  they  began  to 
come.  He  greeted  each  as  they  found  a  place 
by  the  fire,  and  when  quite  a  time  had  passed 
after  the  latest  arrival,  he  arose  and  said: 

"Brothers  all,  I  have  asked  you  to  come  here 
to  listen  to  How  It  Came  About  Stories,  and  to 
tell  us  your  secrets  concerning  your  peculiar 
powers.  You  all  know  why  this  Council  was 
called,  and  I  need  not  explain  further  than  to 
say  that  everything  that  is  told  here  will  be 
considered  confidential  and  be  kept  secret  among 
ourselves.  I  shall  begin  the  evening's  enter- 
tainment by  calling  on  the  Bob-cat  first,  he 
being  the  largest  of  the  forest-people  about  our 

174 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

fire.  Brother  Bob-cat,  be  good  enough  to  start 
this  Council  by  telling  us  how  and  why  you 
came  to  wear  a  spotted  coat.  I  beg  you  to 
withhold  nothing,  even  though  it  may  sound 
unbelievable  or  ridiculous. "  He  turned  and 
put  a  few  sticks  upon  the  fire,  and,  when  they 
began  to  burn,  the  Bob-cat  arose  and  walked  a 
few  steps  forward. 


175 


CHAPTER  II 

""DROTHER  WEASEL  and  Forest-folk,"  he 
-^  said,  bowing  to  those  about  the  fire,  "the 
story  of  my  spots  is  a  sorry  one,  indeed.  I 
have  never  told  it,  but  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
you  are  all  to  tell  your  secrets,  I  shall  reveal  to 
you  how  I  came  by  my  spots. 

"Perhaps  you  may  know  that  all  of  our  rela- 
tions, the  Mountain  Lion,  the  Lynx,  and  the 
other  Cat-people  are  spotted  when  they  are 
born;  but  not  all  of  them  wear  their  spots 
throughout  their  lives,  as  I  do.  The  young 
Lynx  is  not  so  spotted  as  the  kitten  of  the 
Mountain  Lion,  but  there  are  spots,  if  you  look 
for  them,  and  all  because  of  what  I  shall  now 
tell  you  in  confidence.  It  is  hard  to  be  obliged 
to  confess  that  one  is  a  thief,  or  that  he  has 
been  a  thief,  yet  I  must  begin  my  story  by  such 
a  confession. 

176 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"  I  was  hungry  and  the  season  was  bad.  The 
forests  were  dried  up  and  the  plains  were  worse. 
Rabbits  and  Grouse  had  left  the  country  and  I 
was  afraid  that  I  would  die  of  hunger,  when 
one  day  I  saw  a  Person  fishing  in  the  Big  River 
that  flows  through  the  level  lands.  I  watched 
the  Person  for  a  long  time,  and  saw  him  catch 
several  fish,  which  he  strung  upon  a  willow. 
He  did  not  stop  to  eat  them,  but  continued  his 
fishing,  catching  more  and  still  more  fine  fish 
until  there  were  a  great  number  strung  on  the 
willow  which  was  lying  on  the  stones  behind 
him.  I  could  smell  them,  for  the  wind  was 
blowing  toward  me,  and  it  made  me  hungrier 
than  ever;  so  I  ran  up  the  stream,  and,  finding 
a  good  place,  crawled  down  to  the  stones  behind 
the  fishing  Person.  He  did  not  hear  me,  for  I 
can  walk  silently,  and  my  eyes  are  much  better 
than  my  nose.  I  began  to  creep  toward  the 
string  of  fish,  thinking  that  I  would  steal  only 
one,  but  when  I  reached  out  and  hooked  my 
sharp  claws  into  a  big  one,  the  whole  string  was 

177 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

pulled  toward  me.  I  could  not  get  the  fish 
loose  from  the  willow,  so  I  ate  him  there.  Then 
I  ate  another  and  yet  another.  I  was  even  be- 
ginning on  the  fourth  when  the  Person  caught 
a  big  one,  and,  turning  around,  saw  me  eating 
his  fish. 

"It  was  nearly  dark,  and  I  had  not  noticed 
who  the  Person  was  until  he  turned  his  face 
toward  me.  Then  I  saw  that  it  was  OW-man, 
and  I  was  frightened.  I  ran  as  fast  as  I  could, 
but  I  had  eaten  three  large  fish  and  part  of 
another,  and  I  wasn't  able  to  run  swiftly.  He 
struck  at  me,  and  that  was  the  blow  that  cost 
me  my  tail.  It  was  long  and  handsome  before 
then,  and  I  wasn't  called  the  Bob-cat  until  after 
that  night. 

"Old-man  followed  me  over  the  plains  and 
mountains  in  the  darkness,  and  every  time  he 
drew  near  enough  he  punched  me  with  the  end 
of  a  burned  stick.  'Take  that  — and  that!' 
he  would  say  at  each  thrust  of  the  stick.  I 
cried  out,  for  I  was  suffering  terribly,  but  he 

178 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

punched  and  punched  with  the  blackened  end 
of  the  stick  until  I  was  spotted  all  over.  Some 
of  the  black  faded  out  and  left  only  rings  that 
are  darker  than  the  rest  of  my  coat,  but  most 
of  them  remained  black,  and  do  to  this  day.  I 
was  sure  that  OW-man  would  take  my  life,  but 
at  last  I  saw  a  small  hole  in  some  rocks,  and 
ran  into  it.  Old-man  couldn't  get  into  the  hole, 
but  stopped  outside  and  called:  'Which  one  of 
the  Cat-people  are  you?' 

"I  kept  still. 

"'I  say,  which  of  the  Cat-people  are  you 
that  ate  my  fish?' 

"Still  I  didn't  answer. 

"'All  right,'  he  said.  'You  '11  be  spotted  - 
all  of  you  —  to  pay  for  this.'  And  we  are  —  all 
of  us  —  but  my  spots  are  plainer  to  see  than 
those  of  the  others,  because  it  was  I  that  Old- 
man  poked  with  his  stick,  and  everywhere  the 
blackened  stick  poked  me  is  a  spot. 

"I  didn't  see  him  for  a   long  time  after 
he  had  punished  me,  but  when  he  saw  me  he 

179 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

knew  it  was  I  that  had  stolen  his  fish,  be- 
cause my  tail  was  gone.  That 's  How  It  Came 
About." 


180 


CHAPTER  III 

Bob-cat  sat  down,  and  the  Weasel  arose 
from  his  place  and  said :  "Brother,  we  have 
enjoyed  your  story  and  thank  you  for  it.  I, 
for  one,  believe  every  word  of  it  to  be  true. 
But  you  are  not  the  only  thief  in  the  world,  by 
any  means,  nor  the  greatest. 

"That  there  may  not  seem  to  be  favoritism 
shown  here  by  me,  as  your  chairman,  I  shall 
now  call  upon  the  least  among  us  —  I  mean  the 
least  in  size,  for  while  he  is  tiny  he  is  still  great 
in  accomplishment.  You  have  all  seen  the 
webs  that  our  brother,  the  Spider,  weaves  in 
the  forest,  and  you  have  marvelled  at  his  skill, 
as  I  have,  but  you  cannot  possibly  know  how 
he  came  to  possess  the  power  to  make  those 
webs.  That  secret  is  his  own,  and  I  ask  him 
now  to  come  forward  and  tell  us  How  It  Came 
About." 

The  Spider  crawled  toward  the  fire,  which  the 

181 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Weasel  had  brightened  by  additions  of  birch 
bark,  and  began: 

"Our  good  brother,  the  Weasel,  has  said  that 
the  Bob-cat  is  not  the  only  thief  in  the  world, 
nor  yet  the  greatest,  and  that  is  quite  true. 
The  Bear  is  a  greater  thief  than  the  Bob-cat, 
and,  besides,  he  has  always  been  a  thief." 

The  Weasel  tossed  more  bark  upon  the  fire, 
glancing  toward  the  spot  in  the  tall  ferns  where 
he  knew  the  Bear  was  lying,  and  with  a  broad 
grin  on  his  cunning  little  face,  said:  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  Brother  Spider,  but  the  fire  was  grow- 
ing dim." 

"I  do  not  like  the  Bear-person,"  continued 
the  Spider.  "He  goes  lumbering  through  the 
forests,  breaking  my  webs  faster  than  I  can 
weave  them.  He  is  anything  but  a  gentleman, 
and  I  wish  him  bad  luck. 

"The  Bob-cat  has  told  us  that  Old-man 
treated  him  badly,  but  he  has  been  kind  to  me, 
as  I  shall  show  you.  It  was  on  a  hot  summer 
day.  Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring.  Heat 

182 


The  Spider  said:  "The  Weasel  has  said  that  the  Bob-cat  is  not  the  only 
thief  in  the  world" 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

shimmered  along  the  streams  and  the  birds 
were  close  to  the  water,  with  their  beaks  apart 
and  wings  held  away  from  their  bodies.  None 
of  the  forest-people  were  moving  about  save 
the  Flies,  and  they  were  busy  in  the  shady 
places.  I  had  found  a  good  place,  and  had 
decided  to  stay  there  for  the  day,  but  I  hadn't 
been  there  very  long  when  I  heard  some  Person 
groaning.  I  looked  about,  and  saw  the  Person 
lying  on  his  back,  with  his  face  turned  toward 
the  skies.  A  tree-top  shaded  his  face,  but  the 
rest  of  his  body  was  in  the  sunshine.  He 
groaned  again,  and  as  his  hands  moved  above 
his  head,  I  saw  a  swarm  of  Flies  arise  and  circle 
about  for  a  moment,  then  light  on  his  face  and 
head  again.  I  watched  for  some  time,  and 
always,  when  the  Person  could  stand  the  tor- 
ment of  the  Flies  no  longer,  he  would  groan 
and  raise  his  hands  to  drive  them  away,  and 
always  they  returned  in  a  minute  to  bother  him 
further. 
"I  crawled  toward  the  Person,  wondering 

183 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

why  he  did  not  rise  and  go  away  from  there, 
but,  reaching  his  side,  I  saw  he  was  in  trouble. 
He  had  fallen  and  cut  his  head  on  a  stone,  and 
the  blood  that  had  flowed  from  the  wound  had 
covered  his  face  and  matted  his  hair.  It  was 
the  blood  that  had  called  the  Fly-people;  they 
were  there  in  thousands  to  torment  the  unfor- 
tunate Person  on  the  ground. 

"I  crawled  upon  his  breast  and  rushed  among 
a  swarm  of  Flies,  but  they  escaped  me.  Then  I 
sat  still  and  waited  for  them  to  return,  but  only 
once  did  they  come,  and  that  time  I  caught  and 
ate  one  of  them  before  he  could  get  away  with 
the  others.  Still  I  waited,  but  no  Flies  would 
alight  upon  the  Person  any  more,  and  he  had 
ceased  to  groan  and  move  his  hands. 

"He  slept  and  I  sat  there  near  his  chin,  hop- 
ing in  vain  for  the  return  of  the  swarm  of  Flies. 
I  will  tell  the  truth  here.  I  had  no  thought  of 
protecting  the  Person  from  the  torment  of  the 
Fly-people.  I  was  hungry  and  I  had  never 
seen  so  many  Flies  before.  I  thought  that  by 

184 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

waiting  patiently  I  might  catch  another,  and 
that  was  my  reason  for  staying  on  the  Person's 
breast.  But  only  one  or  two  Flies  ventured 
near  while  I  was  there. 

"At  last  the  Person  awoke  and  sat  up.  Then 
I  saw  that  it  was  OW-man. 

"'Hello!'  I  said. 

"He  looked  about  for  me,  and  I  crawled  out 
on  his  hand,  so  that  he  would  discover  me. 
'Here  I  am!' I  called. 

"'Oh,  hello,  Brother  Spider/  he  answered, 
seeing  me  at  last. 

"'How  did  you  get  hurt?'  I  asked. 

"'I  was  trying  to  get  some  of  that  red  paint 
from  that  cliff,'  he  said,  'and  the  stone  was  rot- 
ten, or  broken,  and  it  gave  way.  I  fell  upon 
the  rocks  here  and  cut  my  head.  The  Fly- 
people  have  tormented  me  and  I  shall  remem- 
ber it.  When  I  could  not  help  myself  they 
attacked  me  in  thousands,  and  I  suffered  greatly 
under  their  crawling  and  biting.  But  they  grew 
ashamed  of  their  actions  at  last,  and  left  me/ 

185 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"'No,  you  are  mistaken,  Old-man,9  I  replied. 
'The  Fly-people  did  not  become  ashamed  of 
their  treatment  of  you.  It  was  I  that  drove 
them  away.  It  was  I  that  stayed  on  your 
breast  near  your  chin  and  kept  them  from  tor- 
menting you  while  you  rested/ 

"'Is  that  true?'  he  asked. 

"'Yes.  It  is  true/  I  answered,  'and  I  can 
do  it  again/ 

"'Well,  hide  in  my  hair  and  I  will  lie  down 
again.  If  the  Fly-people  return  and  you  drive 
them  away,  I  will  know  their  hearts  are  not 
good  toward  me,  the  man  that  made  them,  and 
that  you  are  truthful  —  that  your  tongue  is 
not  forked/ 

"0/rf-man  stretched  himself  upon  the  stony 
ground,  and  I  hid  in  his  hair  as  he  had  sug- 
gested. I  was  very  still,  for  I  hoped  that  if  I 
proved  what  I  had  told  him  was  true,  he  would 
do  something  for  me  that  would  make  my  life 
easier. 

"It  was  quite  a  long  time  before  any  of  the 

186 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

Flies  returned,  and  then  only  two  came  and 
settled  upon  Old-man's  nose.  I  know  they 
must  have  tickled  his  nose  terribly,  but  he  did 
not  move,  nor  did  I.  I  kept  very  still,  hoping 
that  others  would  come.  And  they  did  —  hun- 
dreds, thousands  of  them,  emboldened  by  the 
example  of  the  first  two,  finally  settled  upon 
0^-man's  face  and  head.  Then  I  rushed  upon 
them  and  they  flew  away  —  all  save  one,  which 
late. 

"'There,  you  see/  I  said,  after  the  Flies  had 
gone.  'As  long  as  I  stay  here  they  will  not 
come  back/  And  they  didn't,  although  Old- 
man  did  not  move  for  ever  so  long. 

"  Finally  he  sat  up.  '  Where  are  you,  Spider  ? ' 
he  called. 

"'I'm  here,  OW-man  —  right  here  in  your 
hair,  where  you  told  me  to  hide/  I  answered. 

"'Well,  come  down  here  where  I  can  see  you/ 
he  commanded,  and  I  crawled  to  his  hand. 

'"You  have  a  good  heart/  he  said,  'and  I 
will  rev/ard  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  me 

187 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

this  day.  Let  me  see,  what  do  you  live  on  ?  I 
have  forgotten/ 

"'Why,  you  told  me  to  kill  and  eat  Flies 
and  such  things.  You  said  that  the  Fly-people 
would  grow  to  be  many  —  too  many  —  unless 
I  and  others  lived  upon  them,  but  they  are  too 
quick  for  me,  and,  although  I  do  the  best  I 
can,  I  'm  always  hungry.' 

"'So  you  do  —  so  you  do  live  on  the  Fly- 
people,  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  although  I  had  for- 
gotten it.  I  made  so  many  people  and  told 
them  what  to  do  I  forget  sometimes/  he  said, 
shaking  his  gray  head.  'So  you  do.  And  now 
I  will  make  you  so  that  you  can  get  a  living 
easily.  Come  with  me/ 

"He  rose,  with  me  on  his  hand,  and,  with 
his  old  face  covered  with  dry  blood,  he  walked 
away  into  the  forest.  I  wondered  what  he 
would  do  to  make  life  easier  for  me,  but  he  did 
not  stop  until  he  came  to  a  high  hill,  which  he 
climbed.  He  seated  himself  on  its  crest.  '  Here 
we  will  rest/  he  said,  and  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

188 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

It  was  nearly  another  day  when  he  awoke  and 
sat  up.  I  was  still  on  his  hand.  It  was  warm 
there  in  the  night,  and  I  had  slept  some  in 
spite  of  my  wondering. 

"0W-man  stood  up,  made  a  strange  sign 
toward  the  east,  and  then  went  to  a  mountain- 
ash  that  was  growing  on  the  hillside.  With  its 
pretty  leaves  he  began  to  weave  a  green  basket 
with  a  tiny  cover,  and  when  he  had  finished  he 
returned  to  the  hilltop  and  again  faced  the 
east.  At  last  the  gray  light  began  to  creep  to 
the  hilltop,  and  I  saw  him  reach  out  and  take 
the  first  that  came.  It  was  a  dull  gray  in  color, 
and  although  it  was  scarcely  visible  I  saw  him 
put  it  into  his  green  basket  of  ash-leaves  with 
his  magic  fingers.  Holding  the  green  basket 
with  his  left  hand,  he  made  another  sign  toward 
the  east,  and  at  length  the  first  golden  beam  of 
the  sun's  light  fell  upon  the  hilltop  at  his  feet. 
He  bent  his  head  a  moment,  and  then  gently 
took  a  portion  of  that  —  just  a  tiny  portion  of 
the  first  golden  gleam  of  the  sunlight  in  the 

189 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

fresh  morning.  'Lend  me  of  your  light  and 
strength,  O  Sunlight !  Lend,  that  I  may  mend 
my  clumsy  work  among  my  people/  he  whis- 
pered. And  then,  with  the  bit  of  gray  dawn 
and  the  tiny  portion  of  golden  sunlight,  he 
went  down  the  hill  and  into  the  forest  again. 

"He  must  have  known  exactly  where  he  was 
going,  for  he  travelled  straight  toward  a  large 
balsam  fir-tree  —  the  largest  I  had  ever  seen, 
straight  and  beautiful  to  see,  with  the  bark 
smooth  about  its  great  trunk  except  for  many 
blisters.  Old-man  broke  one  of  the  blisters 
with  his  finger-nail,  and  the  crystal  drops  of 
sap  hidden  there  fell  into  the  opened  basket 
of  ash-leaves  with  the  portion  of  early  sun- 
light and  gray  dawn.  He  began  to  mix  them 
thoroughly  with  his  finger,  pausing  now  and 
then  to  fan  them  with  his  hand  that  more  of 
the  morning  air  might  enter  and  become  a  part 
of  the  mixture.  Then,  stirring  in  two  drops  of 
dew  which  he  took  from  a  forest  flower,  he  bade 
me  drink  it,  and  I  did  — all  that  I  could  of  it. 

190 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"While  I  was  drinking  he  went  to  a  black- 
haw  bush  and  broke  a  thorn  from  one  of  its 
spiney  branches,  and  returning  commanded 
me  to  sleep.  I  do  not  know  wh^t  he  did  with 
the  thorn,  for  I  felt  no  pain.  But  when  I  awoke 
there  was  a  hole  in  my  back  and  I  suspected 
he  had  pricked  the  hole  there  with  the  thorn. 

"  'Now/  said  he,  'climb  to  that  limb  up  yon- 
der, and  when  you  are  there  reach  around  and 
pull  a  thread  out  of  that  hole  in  your  back. 
Then  fasten  its  end  to  the  limb/ 

"  I  did  as  he  told  me.    It  only  took  a  moment. 

"  'Now  let  yourself  down  slowly/  he  ordered. 

"I  began  to  lower  myself,  wondering  at  the 
strangeness  of  it  all.  Down,  down  I  came, 
twisting  a  little  and  marvelling  much.  I  ex- 
pected to  fall;  but  judge  of  my  surprise  when 
I  saw  a  fine  thread  of  silvery  gray  coming  from 
my  back  as  I  lowered  my  body  toward  the 
ground. 

"'That's  it!'  cried  OW-man.  'That's  it! 
Now  make  a  web  like  this/  and  he  drew  a  pat- 

191 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

tern  upon  the  ground  with  a  stick.  'Make 
your  webs  like  this,  only  fasten  them  between 
limbs  or  across  open  places.  The  Fly-people 
will  not  see  them  and  they  will  become  en- 
tangled in  them.  Then  you  can  kill  them  and 
eat  them  when  you  are  ready.  The  wind  will 
help  you,  too.  I  have  commanded  it  to  help 
you  set  your  traps  when  you  ask  it.  Now  you 
can  live  easily  and  I  have  paid  you  for  your 
goodness  to  me.  Kill  many  Flies  —  more  than 
you  need,  for  they  are  too  many.  Always  re- 
member me,  for  I  need  to  be  remembered.  And 
now  I  will  go  to  the  river  and  wash  the  blood 
from  my  face/  he  finished,  leaving  me. 

"I  set  my  first  web-trap  right  away  and 
caught  five  Flies  that  day !  I  've  been  setting 
them  ever  since  and  always  shall  —  but  I  hate 
the  Bear  because  he  breaks  them.  That 's 
my  story." 


192 


CHAPTER  IV   , 

"  A  ND  it  's  a  good  one,"  declared  the  Weasel, 
*  *•  as  the  Spider  finished.  "I've  always 
wondered  what  your  webs  were  made  of,  and 
I  'm  glad  to  know.  It  is  easy  now  to  see  why 
they  are  so  light  and  beautiful,  and  no  wonder, 
when  one  considers  the  material  that  OW-man 
used  in  making  them.  I,  for  one,  shall  be  more 
careful  in  the  future  while  travelling  about 
and  not  break  so  many  of  your  webs." 

"Oh,  it's  the  Bear  who  causes  me  most  of 
my  trouble,  and  he  doesn't  care  a  rap,"  said 
the  Spider.  "  I  'm  glad  that  you  liked  my  story 
and  I  'm  anxious  to  hear  the  others." 

The  Weasel  put  more  wood  and  bark  on  the 
fire  and  when  it  had  brightened  said:  "We 
have  a  number  of  Fly-catching  people  with  us 
to-night,  and,  besides  them,  I  think  that  the 
greatest  thief  alive  is  also  here,  but  I  shall  ask 

193 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

the  Toad-person  to  tell  us  how  he  came  to  be 
so  clever  at  making  his  living.  He  began  to 
travel  to  this  place  ten  days  ago,  and  only 
reached  here  this  morning,  for  he  is  a  slow 
traveller.  Brother  Toad,  will  you  be  good 
enough  to  tell  us  your  secret  of  Fly-catching 
and  How  It  Came  About  that  you  possess  it?" 

"I  'd  be  delighted,"  replied  the  Toad,  "but 
first  I  want  to  say  that  the  Bear-person  is  de- 
testable. He  blunders  along  through  the  forests 
and  up  and  down  the  banks  of  streams  without 
caring  who  he  steps  on.  I  have  to  look  out  for 
him  wherever  I  go.  I  wish  something  would 
happen  to  him,  and  I  wish  him  bad  luck  as  does 
the  Spider.  Now,  about  my  Fly-catching.  I 
couldn't  always  catch  them  so  easily  as  I  do 
now,  but  that 's  the  story,  so  I  '11  commence 
at  the  very  beginning. 

"I  was  always  a  homely  person  and  clumsy. 
Being  one  of  the  first  people  Old-man  made, 
I  wasn't  so  very  well  done  —  that  is,  I  believe 
OW-man  did  better  work  after  he  had  fashioned 

194 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

me.  Of  course,  I  didn't  know  how  to  make 
my  living  after  he  made  me,  but  he  told  me 
to  catch  the  Flies  and  Bugs  just  as  he  told  the 
Spider.  But,  good  gracious!  £  couldn't  catch 
a  Fly  in  a  week,  although  I  sat  still  just  as  he 
told  me  to.  He  made  me  to  look  like  —  well, 
nothing  much  —  and  I  knew  that  the  Flies 
couldn't  see  me  very  well;  they  came  close  to 
me,  even  lit  on  me,  but  I  couldn't  catch  them. 
Yet  I  sat  still  and  waited  just  as  OW-man  had 
commanded  until  I  was  so  weak  from  hunger 
that  I  almost  died.  That  was  how  I  learned 
to  do  without  food  so  long,  and  I  have  never 
forgotten  what  I  learned  then.  I  can  go  for 
months  without  eating  if  I  am  obliged  to  do  it, 
and  I  never  eat  in  the  winter-time.  Life  was 
very  hard  for  me  in  those  days  and  OW-man 
was  so  busy  making  other  people  that  he  for- 
got all  about  me  until,  one  day  in  the  summer 
when  I  was  so  poor  and  thin  that  I  could 
scarcely  crawl,  I  was  waiting  for  Flies  among 
some  stones  by  the  river  when  OW-man  came 

195 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

along  and  sat  down  on  a  large  stone  to  watch 
me.  His  body  cast  a  shadow  across  mine  and 
I  was  glad  of  the  shade  for  the  sun  was  hot. 

"  'Say,  Toad,'  he  said  at  last,  'you  are  thin. 
I  made  you  to  be  a  fat  person.  You  must  be 
lazy/ 

"  'No,'  I  told  him,  'I  am  not  lazy,  but  I  can- 
not catch  the  Fly-people  and  I  am  starving. 
I  '11  soon  be  dead  if  you  do  not  help  me.' 

"Just  then  a  Fly  lighted  upon  OW-man's 
right  hand  and  he  caught  it  with  his  left.  'See ! 
I  can  catch  them,'  he  said.  'Eat  this  one.' 
He  handed  it  to  me,  but  when  I  tried  to  take 
it  I  fell  over. 

"  'Stick  out  your  tongue,'  he  said  and  I  did 
stick  out  my  tongue,  but  when  he  put  the  Fly 
upon  it  it  fell  to  the  ground. 

"  'That 's  funny,'  he  mused.  'I  hadn't  made 
many  people  when  I  fashioned  you,  and  I  guess 
I  made  a  mistake.  Stick  out  your  tongue 
again.' 

"I  did,  and  he  grabbed  it  with  his  thumb 

196 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

and  finger.  'Oh  F  I  cried,  but  he  pinched  hard 
and  began  to  swing  me  about  his  head  in  the 
air  holding  to  the  end  of  my  tongue.  Round 
and  round  he  swung  me  until  *.  was  blind  and 
dizzy.  At  last  I  lost  consciousness  and  remem- 
bered nothing  more  until  I  found  myself  lying 
on  my  back  among  the  stones  with  OW-man 
sitting  beside  me. 

"'Get  up!'  he  commanded,  as  soon  as  I 
opened  my  eyes  to  the  light. 

"  I  tried  to  get  up,  but  stepped  on  my  tongue, 
which  was  now  as  long  as  my  body,  and  I  fell 
down  again. 

"'Swallow  your  tongue  first/  directed  Old- 
man. 

"  I  was  sure  I  could  never  get  my  tongue  back 
into  my  mouth.  It  was  as  long  as  I  am,  and 
the  end  that  he  had  pinched  so  hard  was  flat 
and  limber  —  so  limber  that  it  did  not  seem  to 
belong  to  my  tongue  at  all.  However,  I  strug- 
gled to  swallow  it,  and  finally  it  disappeared, 
but  it  seemed  to  be  much  more  than  I  needed. 

197 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

'There/  I  said,  'it's  down,  but  I  can't  speak 
plainly  with  it.  I  've  got  too  much  tongue.' 

"'I  guess  not,'  he  said.    'Take  this  Fly  now.' 

"I  started  to  stick  out  my  tongue  so  that  he 
might  put  the  dead  Fly  on  it,  but  he  cried: 
'No— no!  Snatch  it!  Grab  it!  Wind  the  flat- 
tened end  of  your  tongue  around  it!  Quick!' 

"I  snatched  at  the  Fly  in  his  finger.  Out 
went  the  long  tongue.  The  flat  end  curled 
around  the  Fly  and  was  back  in  my  mouth  so 
swiftly  that  I  didn't  realize  I  had  got  the  Fly 
until  I  felt  it  in  my  mouth. 

'"That's  it!'  cried  OW-man,  laughing. 
'That's  the  way,  only  faster!  Faster!  I've 
fixed  you !  You  can  make  your  living  now  and 
look  fat,  as  I  intended  you  to  be,  always.  Now 
sit  still  and  catch  a  Fly.  I  have  many  things 
to  do,  but  I  shall  not  leave  you  until  you  can 
catch  Flies.' 

"I  sat  still,  and  in  a  little  while  a  large  Fly 
came  buzzing  around  me.  I  snatched  at  him. 
'Fine!  Fine!'  laughed  Old-man.  'You  are  so 

198 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

quick  with  that  new  tongue  I  didn't  even  see 
it;  but  you  caught  the  Fly,  and  I  am  going  to 
look  after  the  other  people  now.  I  made  a  lot 
of  mistakes  that  will  have  to  be  mended  or  my 
people  will  die.  Good-by,  and  get  fat/  he 
laughed,  and  left  me. 

"My  tongue  bothered  me  in  speaking  for  a 
long  time,  but  now  I  can  talk  plainly,  and  no 
Fly  or  Bug  escapes  me,  if  he  comes  within  the 
length  of  my  body  from  my  mouth.  That 's 
How  It  Came  About." 


199 


CHAPTER  V 

"  \\7E  thank  you>  Brother  Toad>"  said  the 

Weasel,  stirring  the  fire.  "Old-man 
must  have  hurt  you  the  day  he  pinched  your 
tongue/' 

"He  did,"  agreed  the  Toad.  "Keep  still  a 
minute;  here  comes  a  Miller.  Watch  me  catch 
him." 

The  Miller,  attracted  by  the  firelight,  fluttered 
about  and  finally  settled  upon  a  stick  in  the 
wood-pile,  too  far  from  the  Toad.  But  he 
hitched  and  wriggled  closer  until  at  last  the 
Miller  disappeared.  There  was  a  sound  like  the 
shutting  of  jaws  —  a  satisfied  click  or  smack,  as 
the  Toad's  tongue  returned  to  its  place  with 
its  prey,  but  not  one  person  around  the  fire  had 
seen  the  tongue  do  its  work.  "There,  that's 
the  way  I  make  my  living,"  said  the  Toad. 
"Now  go  ahead;  fix  your  fire  and  I  '11  listen  to 
the  others." 

The  Weasel  piled  bark  upon  the  fire  and  then 

200 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

said:  "We  have  a  queer  person  with  us  to-night 
—  a  person  who  digs  in  the  ground  under  the 
snow  in  winter,  and  who  is  seldom  seen  by 
others.  When  the  snow  melts  and'  is  gone  we 
see  the  curious,  crooked  ways  he  has  made  dur- 
ing the  winter  and  wonder  at  them.  Will  the 
Bob-tailed  Mole  (Vole)  tell  us  How  It  Came 
About  that  he  lives  as  he  does?" 

The  Bob-tailed  Mole  came  to  the  fire.  "I  'd 
get  along  well  enough  if  it  were  not  for  the 
Bear.  He  is  a  mean  person,"  he  began.  "No- 
body here  seems  to  like  the  Bear  very  much, 
and  he  is  the  terror  of  my  life.  I  wish  some- 
thing bad  would  happen  to  him.  Old-man  made 
many  enemies  for  me,  but  the  Bear  is  the  worst 
of  them  all;  for  not  only  does  he  dig  my  people 
out  of  their  holes,  but  his  keen  nose  tells  him 
where  they  are. 

"I  have  always  lived  as  I  am  now  living,  only 
I  had  no  pouches  in  which  to  carry  the  dirt 
which  I  dug,  and  once  my  tail  was  long,  like 
that  of  my  relations,  the  Mice-people.  You 

201 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

have  often  seen  fine  black  dirt  in  little  piles  on 
the  snow?  Well,  I  do  that.  I  make  those 
piles  with  dirt  that  I  dig  under  the  snow.  You 
see,  I  couldn't  move  about  in  my  tunnels  if  I 
had  no  way  to  dispose  of  the  dirt  I  dig  in  mak- 
ing them,  so  I  carry  it  out  in  my  pouches  and 
dump  it  just  as  a  miner  does,  and  now  I  '11  tell 
you  How  It  Came  About. 

"One  day  I  was  digging,  but  my  tunnel  was 
broken  in  many  places  because  I  was  then 
obliged  to  pile  the  dirt  behind  me.  Each  pile 
shut  off  the  tunnel,  and  made  it  necessary  for 
me  to  begin  a  new  one.  Anybody  could  see 
just  where  I  was,  for  each  tunnel  was  little 
longer  than  my  own  body.  I  eat  the  roots  of 
small  plants  and  certain  grasses  that  are  under 
the  ground,  and  I  have  many  enemies  besides 
the  Bear,  so  I  keep  out  of  sight  as  much  as  I 
can.  Well,  on  the  day  that  I  am  telling  you 
about,  Old-man  came  along  and  saw  me. 

"'Hello!'  he  greeted,  as  I  came  out  of  the 
ground  to  begin  another  tunnel. 

202 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"'Good  morning!'  I  replied. 

"'You  are  not  doing  as  I  told  you  to  do/ 
said  OW-man.  'Keep  under  the  ground !  Keep 
under  the  ground!  The  Owl  and  the  Hawk 
and  lots  of  your  enemies  can  see  you  if  you 
work  in  this  way/ 

'"How  can  I  keep  under  the  ground?'  I 
asked  him.  'I  dig  and  dig,  just  as  you  told 
me,  but  the  dirt  piles  up  behind  me,  and  there 
is  no  room  for  me  in  the  hole  that  I  am  digging. 
If  I  dig  it  larger  there  is  only  more  dirt  to 
bother  me.  What  is  there  is  there  always,  no 
matter  how  I  work  to  make  it  different.  If  I 
cannot  get  rid  of  the  dirt  how  can  my  body  be 
in  any  hole  ?  Tell  me/ 

'"Well,  well,  well!'  he  said.  'I  didn't  think 
of  that.  I  put  the  dirt  where  it  is,  and  unless 
it  is  moved  away  nothing  can  take  its  place,  of 
course.  Come  here/ 

"I  went  to  him,  wondering  what  he  intended 
to  do  to  help  me,  and  he  waved  his  hand  over 
me  four  times.  Then  a  numbness  came  upon 

203 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

me.  It  was  as  though  I  were  asleep  or  dead, 
only  I  could  see  and  understand  what  he  was 
doing.  He  took  a  sharp  piece  of  flint  from  his 
girdle  and  cut  two  slits  in  my  skin,  one  on 
either  side  of  my  neck  near  my  face.  These  he 
made  smooth  with  a  peeled  stick  from  a  bush 
of  red  willow  that  grew  near  by.  He  kept  talk- 
ing as  he  worked,  and  I  could  hear  him  and 
understand.  There  was  no  pain,  and  his  fin- 
gers moved  swiftly.  'Fill  these  two  pouches 
with  the  dirt  that  you  dig/  he  said.  'And  when 
they  are  full  come  out  and  unload  them;  empty 
them  with  your  front  feet,  using  the  left  foot  to 
empty  the  right  pouch,  and  the  right  foot  to 
unload  the  left  pouch.'  I  wondered  how  I 
could  do  that,  but  could  not  speak  nor  move. 
'Your  tail  —  that  must  be  a  nuisance  in  digging 
and  in  turning  around  in  your  tunnels/  he  con- 
tinued. It  was  a  nuisance,  but  I  liked  my  tail, 
and  would  have  told  him  that  if  I  could  have 
spoken;  but  the  numbness  was  even  upon  my 
tongue,  so  that  no  words  would  come  to  it. 

204 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

'Yes,'  he  went  on,  talking  more  to  himself  than 
to  me,  'that  tail  is  another  of  my  mistakes. 
I  '11  cut  it  off.'  I  wanted  to  cry  out,  but 
couldn't,  and  he  pinched  off  my  tail  with  his 
finger-nails,  leaving  only  a  stub  half  as  long  as 
the  tails  of  my  relations,  the  Mice-people. 
'You  should  be  darker  in  color,'  he  said,  'for 
you  live  where  the  dirt  is  black.  Be  blacker!' 
—  and  I  became  the  color  of  black  dirt.  '  Wake ! ' 
he  cried. 

"And  then  my  blood  began  to  circulate  again. 
I  felt  no  pain,  and  stood  upon  my  feet.  'Go 
now  and  dig.  Fill  your  pouches  and  let  me  see 
you  unload  them  before  I  leave  you.  I  am 
busy  mending  my  mistakes  in  creation/  he 
said. 

"  I  dug  and  filled  my  pouches  with  the  black 
dirt  that  is  upon  the  surface  of  the  forest  lands, 
and  when  they  were  full  I  came  out  of  the  hole 
I  had  made  as  he  bade  me.  I  began  to  empty 
the  left  pouch  with  the  right  front  foot  just  as 
he  had  commanded.  'Faster!  faster!'  cried 

205 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

0/d-man.  'Make  your  foot  go  fast/  and  I  did. 
I  made  it  go  so  fast  that  OW-man  couldn't  see 
it  moving.  'That's  the  way!'  he  laughed. 
'Now  you'll  get  along  easily  and  be  able  to 
hide  from  your  enemies  who  do  not  use  their 
noses  but  depend  upon  their  eyes  to  find  you. 
Now  you  can  dig  the  ground  in  the  winter-time 
under  the  snow,  for  you  can  carry  the  dirt  up 
through  it,  and  empty  your  pouches  when  no 
one  is  looking.  Good-by.  I  am  a  busy  Person.' 
"That 's  How  It  Came  About,"  finished  the 
Bob-tailed  Mole.  "I  'm  glad  the  Bear  isn't 
here,"  he  added.  "He  bothers  me  in  the  sum- 
mer-time. He  is  always  digging  roots  and  often 
finds  my  people  in  his  digging.  His  nose  is 
keen  —  too  keen  to  suit  me,  and  if  he  were 
with  us  to-night  I  would  suspect  him  of  evil 
designs." 


206 


CHAPTER  VI 

npHE  Weasel  walked  to  the  fire  which  had 
burned  down  to  a  few  coals  and  put  some 
fresh  fuel  upon  it.  "Thank  you,  brother,"  he 
said.  "Your  story  explains  those  piles  of  black 
dirt  which  I  have  seen  upon  the  snow  in  winter. 
I  don't  dislike  the  Bear-person,  myself,  but  it 
seems  that  the  rest  of  you  about  this  fire  look 
upon  him  with  disfavor." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent  among  those 
present  at  the  Council,  and  hearing  it  the 
Weasel  glanced  knowingly  toward  the  thick 
patch  of  ferns,  for  he  knew  the  Bear  had  heard 
every  word.  "It  will  teach  him  to  be  truth- 
ful," he  thought.  "I  will  now  call  upon  the 
Mountain  Rat,  the  greatest  thief  I  know,"  he 
said  aloud.  "Let  him  tell  us  how  he  came  to 
be  so  industrious  in  his  thieving,  and  How  It 
Came  About  that  he  steals  so  many  things 
which  he  cannot  use." 

207 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

The  fire  burned  up  brightly,  fanned  by  a 
gentle  breeze,  so  that  its  light  reached  almost 
to  the  thick  patch  of  ferns.  The  Mountain 
Rat,  his  whiskers  showing  plainly  in  the 
firelight,  walked  to  a  spot  near  the  blaze 
when 

"Coog — Coog-a-noots — Sto-kay!"  the  deep 
voice  of  the  Great  Horned  Owl  came  from  a 
tree-top  over  the  fire.  There  was  a  scamper- 
ing of  the  people  and  a  hush  fell  upon  the  Coun- 
cil Ground.  Only  the  sighing  of  the  breeze  in 
the  bushes  and  the  crackle  of  the  Weasel's  fire 
could  be  heard.  Not  a  person  was  in  sight. 

"  Coog  —  Coog  -  a  -  noots  —  Sto  -  kay !  "  called 
the  Owl,  again. 

"O  my!"  whispered  the  Bob-tailed  Mole, 
"I  do  wish  I  hadn't  come  here." 

"So  do  I,"  replied  the  Flying  Squirrel,  as  he 
crawled  under  a  log  with  the  Mole. 

"Say,  Brother  Owl!"  called  the  Weasel, 
gathering  his  courage  and  returning  to  his  fire, 
"  I  wish  you  'd  go  away  from  here.  We  are 

208 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

holding  a  Council,  and  I  've  always  been  a  friend 
of  yours." 

"Oh,  hello,"  said  the  Owl.  "If  you  are  hold- 
ing a  Council  I  '11  go  away.  One  tree  is  as  good 
as  another  to  me,  but  I  saw  your  fire  and 
thought  I  'd  investigate.  I  can  see  some  things 
from  here  that  you  can't,  Brother  Weasel." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  can,  but  never  mind  - 
never  mind,  and  go  away,  please,"  urged  the 
Weasel. 

"All  right,  if  you  know  about  it,"  laughed 
the  Owl,  and  he  went  away. 

"There!"  cried  the  Weasel.  "Come  from 
your  hiding-places,  brothers!  The  Owl-person 
will  not  come  back." 

They  came  slowly  and  fearfully  into  the  fire- 
light, and  the  Weasel  piled  more  bark  upon 
the  blaze.  "Now,  Brother  Mountain  Rat," 
he  said,  "go  on  with  your  story." 

"Well,  first  I  want  to  correct  an  impression," 
began  the  Mountain  Rat.  "I  do  not  steal  for 
the  love  of  stealing,  as  the  Weasel  has  said.  I 

209 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

steal  because  I  am  obliged  to,  as  I  shall  show 
you.  I  do  not  claim  to  be  anything  but  a  thief 
and  a  social  outcast,  but  there  are  people  here 
about  this  fire  that  are  not  much  better  than 
I.  There's  that  Spider-person,  for  instance. 
The  Weasel  has  spoken  of  her  beautiful  webs 
and  the  strange  powers  possessed  by  the  Spider, 
but  neither  our  brother  the  Weasel  nor  the 
Spider,  in  telling  How  It  Came  About,  told  us 
that  the  Spiders  are  cannibal-people.  The  women 
Spiders  always  eat  their  husbands.  Maybe  you 
don't  know  that,  but  it 's  true !  I  'm  rather  bad, 
I  know,  but  there  are  others  besides  myself 
who  possess  ways  that  should  condemn  them 
socially.  Now  I  don't  like  many  people  and 
hardly  any  care  for  me,  but  I  shall  tell  you  How 
It  Came  About  that  I  am  a  thief. 

"It  was  a  still  day  in  the  fall.  In  the  clear 
streams  every  tree  was  reflected  sharply.  Alder 
and  quaking-aspen  leaves  which  had  fallen 
were  sailing  about  on  the  waters  in  the  breeze, 
their  gay  colors  flashing  like  the  wings  of  Butter- 

210 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

flies.  Old-man  had  warned  us  of  the  coming 
winter  by  painting  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and 
bushes.  The  grass  had  changed  its  color,  too, 
and  the  nights  were  growing  colder.  The  ducks 
and  the  geese  were  beginning  to  travel  toward 
the  South  and  every  lake  was  filled  with  them 
at  night.  Everybody  had  seen  and  recognized 
the  sign  of  the  summer's  death  —  the  sign  Old- 
man  told  us  he  would  make  before  the  winter 
came. 

"I  wasn't  a  thief  then.  I  had  found  a  cave 
in  the  rocks  of  mountain,  and  had  gathered 
food  for  the  winter  as  I  had  been  told  to  do  by 
OW-man  when  he  made  me.  I  was  happy,  hav- 
ing nothing  to  do  except  to  watch  the  change 
that  was  coming  upon  the  world  as  winter  ap- 
proached. The  days  were  so  bright  and  beau- 
tiful, and  the  nights  so  starlit  and  still,  that  I 
could  not  believe  snow  would  come  to  cover 
all  the  land,  or  that  the  ice  would  soon  close 
all  the  lakes  and  lazy  streams. 

"I  was  standing  on  a  dead  tree  by  a  river 
211 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

looking  at  my  own  reflection  in  the  water  when 
suddenly  a  great  form  blotted  it  out.  I  turned 
to  flee  in  fright.  'Stop!'  commanded  a  voice. 
It  was  OW-man,  and  I  stopped,  of  course. 

"'I  have  not  seen  you  since  I  made  you, 
brother/  he  said.  '  How  are  you  getting  along  ? ' 

"  'Wonderfully  well/  I  told  him.  'My  win- 
ter's food  is  all  gathered,  and  I  have  built  my 
nest  in  a  deep  cave  in  the  rocks  of  a  mountain 
as  you  told  me  to  do/ 

"  'What  are  you  doing  now?'  he  asked  sus- 
piciously. 

"  'Nothing  at  all.  I  am  watching  the  change 
that  is  coming,  and  learning  things  from  the 
days  and  nights/ 

" '  I  am  afraid  I  made  things  too  easy  for 
you,  brother/  he  said,  and  turned  and  left  me 
there  by  the  river. 

"I  was  glad  he  was  gone,  for  I  did  not  want 
him  to  change  life  for  me.  I  had  returned  to 
the  fallen  tree  to  look  at  my  shadow  in  the  water 
once  more  when  I  heard  Old-man  coming  toward 

212 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

me  again.  I  sat  still  —  very  still.  I  hoped  he 
would  pass  without  noticing  me,  but  he  did  not. 
Instead  he  came  to  my  side  and  bending  low 
whispered  in  my  ear:  'Gather  Whawhahe  — 
lots  of  it.  You  will  need  to  be  busy/  He  was 
laughing  and  his  eyes  were  dancing  with  glee. 
'Remember,  Whawhahe/  he  said  again,  and 
I  felt  his  breath  deep  in  my  ear. 

'"Wait,  wait,  Old-man  I'  I  cried,  for  he  had 
turned  to  go  away  again,  and  I  didn't  know 
Whawhahe  —  had  never  seen  it  nor  even  smelled 
it.  'Tell  me,  what  is  Whawhahe,  0«-man?'  I 
begged.  '  I  would  not  know  it  if  I  saw  it/  But 
he  kept  on,  his  laugh  ringing  in  my  ears. 

'"Find  it!'  he  called  back  from  a  thicket  of 
fir-trees.  'Find  it  and  pile  it  high,  for  some 
day  I  shall  visit  your  lodge,  and  if  you  have 
gathered  no  Whawhahe,  I  will  surely  make 
trouble  for  you  —  ha,  ha,  ha !' 

"Then  he  was  gone.  Even  the  Echo-people, 
who  had  begun  at  once  to  play  with  his  laugh, 
had  lost  it  among  the  big  trees,  and  I  turned 

213 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

away  to  where  only  the  water,  rippling  against 
a  stone  near  the  river's  bank,  was  making  a 
sound. 

"I  was  sad.  My  heart  was  on  the  ground. 
'How  can  I  ever  be  happy  again?'  I  wondered. 
Just  then  the  Beaver  came  along,  and  I  called 
to  him.  'Wait,  brother!  I  am  in  trouble  and 
you  are  wise.  Tell  me,  what  is  Whawhahe?' 
But  he  laughed.  'You're  a  crazy-person/  he 
said;  'I  never  heard  of  Whawhahe'  —  and  he 
went  on  down  the  river.  Then  I  asked  the 
feathered  thief,  the  Magpie,  but  he  too  only 
laughed  and  flew  higher  among  the  branches  of 
a  tree,  as  though  to  rid  himself  of  my  company. 

"When  night  came  I  was  far  from  my  lodge. 
I  had  wandered  without  realizing  where  I  was 
going,  for  I  was  troubled.  OW-man  might  visit 
my  lodge  any  day  —  any  night.  I  must  find 
some  Whawhahe  and  I  didn't  know  what  it 
looked  like,  smelled  like,  or  tasted  like.  So  I 
began  at  once  taking  everything  I  could  carry 
to  my  lodge  in  the  cave,  hoping  that  some  of  it 

214 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

—  any  of  it  —  might  be  Whawhahe,  and  that 
when  he  visited  me  Old-man,  would  find  it  and 
not  make  trouble  for  me. 

"I  have  never  found  a  single  person  who 
knows  what  Whawhahe  is,  but  I  steal  every- 
thing, no  matter  where  I  find  it,  because  I  am 
afraid  that  I  may  not  have  Whawhahe  in  my 
pile  of  supplies  when  Old-man  comes,  and  he  '11 
surely  come  some  day.  It  has  kept  me  busy  - 
made  me  a  thief  and  gatherer  of  things  I  do  not 
want.  I  discover  new  things  almost  every  night 
and  carry  them  to  my  lodge  in  the  cave.  I  'm 
doing  my  best  to  find  that  strange  thing  which 
nobody  knows  or  ever  heard  of,  and  that 's  why 
I  am  a  thief.  Judge  me,  now  that  I  have  told 
you  How  It  Came  About. 

"Before  I  sit  down  to  listen  to  the  others, 
however,  I  want  to  say  that  I  agree  with  those 
who  have  spoken  before  me.  The  Bear  is  a 
nuisance.  He  persists  in  spending  the  winter 
in  caves  that  I  have  selected  for  myself.  Then, 
when  he  comes  in,  I  have  to  move.  I  wish  that 

215 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

something  terrible  would  happen  to  the  Bear, 
and  if-  -" 

The  Mountain  Rat  got  no  farther.  There 
was  a  crackling  in  the  bushes,  and  a  scattering 
of  the  small  people  about  the  fire,  and  the  great 
body  of  the  Bear  rushed  from  the  thick  patch 
of  ferns. 

Plump!  went  the  Toad  into  the  creek,  and 
plump !  the  Turtle  slid  in  after  him.  "7  didn't 
say  a  word  against  him,  anyhow,"  he  whispered 
to  the  Toad,  as  they  swam  down-stream  to- 
gether. 

"Well,  I  did,  and  I  meant  it,  every  word/' 
returned  the  Toad.  "Nobody  likes  the  Bear- 
person." 

The  Flying  Squirrel,  who  had  expected  the 
Weasel  to  call  on  him  next,  fled  in  terror,  climb- 
ing a  tall  tree,  and  jumping  from  its  top  to  sail 
to  another,  falling  gradually  in  his  flight  until 
he  landed  safely  upon  the  trunk  near  the  ground. 
Then  up  he  climbed,  jumped  again,  and  so  on 
until  he  was  far  away  from  the  Council  Ground. 

216 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

" Mercy !"  he  breathed  at  last.    "I  wonder  if 
they  all  got  away/* 

Of  course  there  was  nobody  in  sight  when 
the  Bear  reached  the  fire.  Everybody  had  run 
away;  and,  being  small  people,  they  could  hide 
easily.  He  was  angry.  His  ears  had  burned 
since  the  beginning  of  the  story-telling,  for  he 
had  heard  no  good  spoken  of  himself.  Curiosity 
had  urged  him  to  hold  his  temper  until  the 
Mountain  Rat,  whom  everybody  despised, 
spoke.  "That 's  all  I  can  stand,"  he  growled, 
and,  crashing  through  the  bushes,  he  charged 
the  Council,  to  punish  the  people  there.  But  all 
was  quiet.  Only  the  tiny  fire  made  a  sound, 
and,  as  though  deriding  him  for  his  show  of  ill- 
temper,  blazed  brighter.  He  struck  the  pile  of 
dry  wood  with  his  great  paw,  and  sent  the 
sticks  and  bits  of  birch  bark  flying  in  all  direc- 
tions. Then,  with  an  angry  snarl,  he  aimed  a 
blow  at  the  fire  itself,  and  there  was  a  shower  of 
sparks,  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  the  burning 
brands  sailed  through  the  darkness  into  the 

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HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

forest,  where  there  were  dry  twigs  and  leaves  in 
dangerous  quantities.  All  was  black  dark  on 
the  Council  Ground,  where  the  Bear,  scratching 
the  earth  in  his  anger,  searched  for  the  forest- 
people  who  had  spoken  against  him.  But  sud- 
denly he  saw  the  reflection  of  a  light  behind  him, 
and  turned.  Deep  in  a  thicket  a  tiny  blaze  had 
kindled.  It  was  growing  brighter  and  crackling 
sharply  as  it  began  to  spread  with  the  rising 
wind.  He  trembled  with  fear,  turning  first  one 
way  and  then  another,  bewildered.  "O  my! 
Look  at  that!"  he  whimpered,  when  the  blaze, 
reaching  higher  and  higher  among  the  bushes, 
sent  its  hot  tongue  to  catch  the  boughs  of  a 
small  fir-tree.  There  was  a  blinding  flash  and 
a  roar.  The  flames  licked  the  inflammable 
needles  from  every  limb,  and  sent  red  sparks 
dancing  in  a  cloud  of  black  smoke  toward  the 
sky. 

"Oh,  now  what  have  I  done!  What  have  I 
done!"  he  wailed. 

"You've  set  the  forest  afire.    That's  what 

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Then,  with  an  angry  snarl,  he  aimed  a  blow  at  the  fire  itself 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

you  've  done/'  said  the  Weasel,  in  an  awed 
voice,  from  the  end  of  a  hollow  log.  "You  Ve 
set  the  forest  afire,  you  big  lout." 

The  Bear  rushed  into  the  thicket  and  began 
to  trample  the  blaze.  "Help  me,  Brother 
Weasel,"  he  begged.  "Don't  let  those  little 
sticks  burn." 

But  the  Weasel  was  already  busy.  He  was 
tossing  the  small  sticks  into  the  fire,  clearing 
the  ground  about  the  thicket  of  all  leaves  and 
twigs.  The  Bob-cat  came  to  help.  So  did  the 
Owl,  who  had  seen  the  fire  start,  and  they  all 
worked  hard  to  save  the  forest. 

"Oh,  I  'm  burned!"  groaned  the  Bear,  limp- 
ing toward  the  creek  when  the  last  smouldering 
ember  was  dead.  "My  feet  are  blistered  terri- 
bly." 

"Serves  you  right,"  said  the  Bob-cat.  "You 
might  have  burned  the  forest  if  we  had  not 
helped  you.  What  will  OW-man  say  when  he 
hears  about  it?" 

"Don't  tell  him!    Please  don't  tell  him!" 

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HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

begged  the  Bear.  "  I  'm  punished  enough.  Just 
look  at  my  feet"  -and  he  sat  down  and  held 
up  a  blistered  paw. 

The  Weasel  laughed. 

"That's  right,  laugh!"  snarled  the  Bear, 
starting  again  for  the  water.  "Laugh !" 

"I  wasn't  laughing  at  your  burns,"  said 
the  Weasel,  following  after  him.  "  I  was  laugh- 
ing at  —  oh,  laughing  because  your  friend  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Mountain  will  be  won- 
dering where  you  are  —  that 's  all,"  he  fin- 
ished. 

"What  friend?"  snapped  the  Bear,  forget- 
ting that  he  had  told  the  Weasel  he  was  ex- 
pected on  the  other  side  of  the  Mountain  that 
night. 

"O  land,  I  don't  know  what  friend,"  grinned 
the  Weasel.  "From  what  I  heard  the  people 
say  to-night  I  am  wondering  if  you  have  any 
friends." 

"Is  that  so?"  sneered  the  Bear,  stepping  into 
the  water. 

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HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT  STORIES 

"Say!"  cried  the  Weasel,  changing  the  sub- 
ject, "I  thought  you  were  afraid  of  fire." 

"I  am  —  terribly,"  groaned  the  Bear,  rolling 
in  the  water.  "What 's  good  for  burns?" 

"Mud,"  said  the  Owl,  "mud." 


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